#terzo fic

[copias-juicebox]

A taste of your own Poison

Pairing: Terzo x fem! Reader Words: 7324 Genre: one shot (or maybe two in the future?) Warnings: starts off innocent and turns into a little spicy rubbing up and down.. no actual smut though Notes: it's here. I wrote this to get Terzo out of my system. It didn't work. anyway here you go. Summaray: Terzo is an asshole, usinghis status too much. He has grown far too cocky for his own good. He sleeps around the ministry, breaking hearts until he meets you. You are not easily swayed. A worthy opponent for him.

Also on AO3

You‘d been walking around the ministry for about 30 minutes now. It was your day off and you decided to explore the huge building and its grounds a little more. You were a relatively new member of the clergy and so you were curious what this old, massive place had to offer. Maybe you could find any hidden places, secret passages or even just a small, calm spot should you ever be in need of solitude. You had no plan where you were going, your feet carrying you down a long hallway at one end of the building. You passed many great halls and pretty doors on the way. It was a friday afternoon and most of the clergy members had decided to spend the rest of their days outside since it was a mild, spring evening.

As you walked along the corridor you noticed a big oak door, with intricate patterns drawn on it in the corner to the left. You were not sure what it was but the door itself intrigued you and before you realized your feet came to a halt in front of it. You decided to see what lay behind it. You pushed the heavy door open and peeked inside.

The room that stood before you appeared to be an office with high ceilings, through the huge windows light flooded the area around the desk and you could see dust particles fly through the air. On either side of the windows stood a shelf with loads of books. The dark heavy curtains were pulled to the side and neatly held together by a clip.

„Saluti Sorella. What brings you here?“ a voice from the other side of the room startled you. You turned to the source of the voice and saw Papa Emeritus the third, standing there, to the left side behind the door. In the area, that was slightly hidden from the direct view of the door, stood two armchairs and a coffee table. Papa stood there awaiting your answer and smiling at you. His papal makeup impeccable, just his hair slightly hanging over his eyes.

„O..oh hello Papa.“ you bowed down to show respect. „I uh I was just wandering around actually. Not really intentionally coming here. I didn‘t think I would cross paths with anyone to be honest.“ you answered him a little blushing because you just wandered into Papa Terzos office without even knocking first. What a terrible way to introduce yourself to the beloved Papa. You reprimanded yourself.

Terzo stepped a little closer and smiled sheepishly at you. „I appreciate the bow, bella. I assume you know who I am then?“ he stood there, hands clasped together in a very collected manner.

„Of course I do Papa. Everyone in the Clergy knows you.“ you smile at him, hoping not to say anything wrong and fuck up the first impression he has of you, well not more than you already ruined it for coming in here without knocking.

„You flatter me Sister, but unfortunately I can‘t say I have seen you around, no?“ he cocked his head to the side, a frown forming on his handsome face.

„Ah yeah that is because I am a relatively new member of the Clergy.“ you told him, fidgeting in your spot.

„Hmm. And your name bella?“ he held out his hand which you looked at a little embarrassed and gave him your name and your hand, expecting him to shake it, when instead he bend down, one hand behind his back, the other one lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it. He kept his eyes trained on you and your slight gasp that escaped your lips was something he took pride in as a small smirk crept upon his face. „A pleasure to meet you Sorella.“ He let go of your hand and came back to stand in front of you. „And how exactly did you find my office?“ He looked from right to left as if he was seeing his Office for the first time.

„Well like I said I was just walking around a little, getting to know the place since I am still fairly new you see?��

„New to the ministry, huh?“ Terzo chuckled. Well you have found your way into Papa Emeritus‘ Office bella. I apologize for the mess here.“ he looked around the relatively clean space, just a few papers lying around and an empty cup of coffee stood on the desk.

Your eyes widened realizing you just ran into Papas Office. „Oh no it‘s not messy at all. Actually I have to apologize. I didn't mean to intrude like that you see I was just walking around and I saw this beautifully adorned door here and I wanted to see...“ you started rambling.

„It is quite alright sorella, I don‘t mind having you here.“ He interrupted you lifting his hands up and down again to calm you down. „This is actually my great grandfather's old office. He was also Papa Emeritus but the clergy was much smaller at that time.“ he said, gesturing to an old painting of another Papa above the fireplace. You inspected it and when your eyes dropped to Terzo he was overlooking a stack of papers laying atop of his desk.

„Uh I am not interrupting your work am I Papa? I can leave..“ Before you could finish he once again stopped you.

„My work for today is finished.“ he shook his head. „Besides you are my guest now. I need to show you some hospitality, sí.“ he grinned.

„I just don‘t want you to feel like you have to. I am fine leaving if you are busy and want to be left alone. I know you are a busy man after all.“ you tell him smiling softly.

„I appreciate the gesture, bella but it‘s not necessary.“ he put his hands on his desk leaning against it. „But I am not that busy.“ A moment of silence passed over you. You admired the room and the ambience the light created. „You look nice by the way.“ His sudden compliment pulled you from your momentary daze and you blushed slightly, not visible but you felt the heat creeping up your neck. Here we go. Not even a week in the ministry and he already is living up to his reputation you thought.

„Ah thank you Papa.“

„Of course. It‘s true.“ He chuckled „But you know, I bet you‘re even cuter when you‘re flustered.“ he began to saunter in your direction, around his desk.

You took a step back, regaining confidence „Papa.. don‘t even start please. I know what you are doing and I won‘t fall for it ok.“ you countered his obvious flirtations.

„Oh what am I doing Sorella?“ By now he stood in front of you. Not too close yet but you could see his face and eyes close up. „I am not flirting, Sorella, just stating the obvious, yes. You are cute and easy to embarrass.. And I think I‘ll try to make that happen.“ he smirked.

His words made you want to fight his charm. How dare he think he can just lull anyone into his arms. You might look like an easy target, easy prey for him to pounce on but you knew your way around men like him. He wouldn‘t be the first one to try and sweet talk you to lure you into his bed, just to kick you out when morning comes. No you were not going to give this man what he thought was so easy to achieve. If he thought he could play a game he was going to go against a worthy opponent. He triggered something in you. Something you had buried deep down. A sad and hurtful memory that you cherished but also wished you had forgotten.

„Well you try all you want. I am not going to get flustered by your attempts because I know your reputation Papa.“ you smiled at him sweetly, acting up.

„Oh yeah? My uh.. reputation you say? What exactly is my reputation sister?“ He stepped closer to you, his voice an octave lower now. „And are you sure? I bet I can get you so adorably flustered before the hour ends.“ he said teasingly.

With every word he said and the cockiness of how he said these words you felt yourself getting more and more competitive to show him how wrong he was. Obviously this man was not used to anyone denying him and you were going to do exactly that, you decided. You were about to teach this man a lesson.

„Oh I dare you. Try me. But don‘t cry when I don‘t give in“ you said confidently, raising one eyebrow at him. „And about your reputation you know.. the usual I don‘t think I‘ll have to explain.“ you shrugged.

„Oh, the usual yes?“ he stepped even closer making you take two more steps backwards now only a few centimeters away from the wall. „Well what are you going to do if I do this?“ he closed the gap between you, pushing you into the wall and caging you there with one hand against the wall. He tilted his head to the side inspecting your cheeks. „Now is that a slight, adorable shade of pink I see?“ he said cockily with a smirk.

Boldly you counter by holding eye contact with his mismatched eyes. „I am telling you Papa I will not give in to your attempts. I know what you are.“

He hums deeply „Oh and what am I then, bella?“ he chuckled, moving his face closer to yours. „Am I a flirt?“ he guessed. You could feel his hot breath on your skin and it made you slightly tremble.

„Not just that, no.“ You put your hand on his chest and pushed him away gently. „You‘re way worse than that. You‘re a womanizer.“

He laughed and his smile grew bigger as your hand hit his chest. „Alright you might be right. I will admit that. I mean come on I can never deny a beautiful Sorella. Satan did not give me all this..“ he looked down on his body. „..to hide myself away from the ladies.“ he smiled devilishly. „But what if I am? Are you going to stop me Sorella?“ he kept his cocky tone, teasing you.

„No. you may do whatever you want. You‘re Papa. But don‘t be mad if it‘s going to hurt your feelings.“

„Oh don‘t worry about that. I won‘t expect anything. Even though I can‘t say that I believe you would be able to resist me. I imagine many in the ministry have fallen for me.“ he smirked.

You wanted to wipe that smirk from his face. That absolute arrogant bastard. But he was right. He did have many admirers. Now that you were thinking about it you were sure there was not one Sister or Brother for that matter who wouldn‘t let Terzo do them however he wanted. You were sure that many of them would actually kill to be in your position right now.

It was well known that Papa was a very eager lover. He knew about his charms and he knew how to talk to women and men. Oddly enough his reputation of being a player hardly seemed to repel the other Brothers and Sisters. Maybe it was just a little different for most of them, being more open with their desires and sexuality but to you it was nothing you wanted. You had heard many stories, many nightly encounters between Sisters and Papa. They always ended the same way. They’d spend a night full of pleasure together and that was it. He would invite them again but if any of them had any romantic expectations they would always get rejected. It never stopped the other Sisters to try and shoot their shot. Some of them might be happy just to spend one passionate night with their Papa, others were hopeful to be the one for Papa, the one he falls for. Whatever their motives were you knew you wanted more than just a one night stand. You wanted, no you needed someone that was there for you, someone to rely on and someone you could trust. Someone that belonged to you and you alone. Someone you could share your most intimate moments with. And you were willing to wait patiently until the right one comes into your life. This man on the other hand was the total opposite of that. He runs around lusting and seeking pleasure in a different bed every night.

„Papa half of the clergy fell for you. And you know that so don‘t pretend you‘re oblivious.“ you retorted.

„So uh you‘re saying I am a heartthrob?“ he asked, still wearing that goddamn smirk. „Well if you think I‘m so irresistible then you won‘t be immune to my charm, will you?“ he said. „Maybe I should try to make you fall for me now?“ he joked.

You scoffed. This man. You were nearly speechless. „Good luck trying Papa. The knowledge alone that you are doing this to anyone in the clergy without any meaning is enough for me to never fall for your games.“ you shot at him.

„Wouldn‘t that just make me a better lover, armore?“ he quipped brashly. „I would call myself quite experienced. I understand how the female body works. You just have to let me take care of you.“ he purred in your ear.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, not believing what you heard. He backed off a little. „Very well then I respect your decision. But just to make sure…“ he moved in closer to you again „since you are so unaffected by me, you don‘t mind if I do this?“ he leaned in his lips mere centimeters from your own, his eyes observing your expression. He lingered there for a long moment waiting for your reaction.

You pushed yourself further into the wall. „Nope. Doesn‘t affect me.“ you answered, slowly feeling your self control slipping away. No you could not give him the satisfaction of winning this.

„Are you sure Sorella?“ he whispered. „even if I were to do this?“ he started to move in closer and for a moment you panicked thinking he was going to try to kiss you. Before he could do so you managed to swerve to the left, which resulted in him nearly kissing the wall.

„Oh no no you don‘t get to kiss me Papa.“ you shook your head.

He smirked blushing himself under his papal makeup. „Very well. You win. For now.“ he backed off. „But I can‘t promise I won‘t try again. I am a man of commitment after all.“ he stated, arms spread in front of him.

„You are a player, that's what you are. I don‘t want no player, no short lived night of love, no.“ you snorted.

„You don’t want one night of utter bliss and pleasure, no? We could do it more than once then.“ He snickered. You didn‘t react to his stupid remark and he continued. „Ok ok. I don‘t blame you. But let me warn you. I am terrible at rejection.“ he frowned and chuckled at the same time. He cleared his throat and added „You know this is nice. Just.. talking to a pretty sister like you.

„You call that talking, huh?“ you laughed out loud, throwing your head back.

„Well you didn‘t run away or slap me. That is something. And I have other topics of conversation if you‘d prefer. But I do have one more question?“

You frowned. „I have a hard time believing anyone here would have the balls to slap you. And you‘re papa, if anything they would love any attention you gave them. They are all going crazy over you.“

„Well if you knew how I flirt with some sisters you‘d understand my fear of getting slapped.“ he added sheepishly, earning a questioning look from you. „But you didn‘t answer my question. May I ask you one thing?“

„Ah yeah sorry. Sure, go ahead.“ you encouraged him.

He took a moment to form the sentence and you waited patiently now that he gave you some distance you could breathe again.

„Have you.. ever been in love before?“ Terzo asked, tilting his head. It sure was a strange question. One you had not expected him to ask you now all of a sudden. He remembered that one woman. He was still young then. How he tried to woo her, in his odd ways, he had even written her a poem. Unfortunately it didn‘t work. She dumped him and moved on. She found someone else. He hadn‘t forgotten her. He would never forget her.

Your expression softened. He was seriously asking you an honest question. „Well if i‘m being honest with you I don‘t think so, no. I‘ve had a few crushes yes but never once I would call any of them love. Why?“ You were curious why he was suddenly interested in that?

Terzo nodded. „I was wondering..“ He frowned „You see sorella, I have been in love before.“ He stepped closer again „I tried so hard to impress her. To please her, but.. I wasn‘t enough. She left and found someone else.“ his voice was distant now, as if he was lost in his own thoughts. He himself didn‘t know why all of a sudden he told you this. But something about you reminded him of her.

Hearing Papa share this intimate story with you surprised you. Suddenly you felt bad for him. You even pitied him when you saw his sad eyes staring into the distance. „I am sorry to hear that Papa. It was not supposed to be then. I am sure you will find someone else.“ you tried to lift his mood.

„I hope so.“ he sighed softly, looking up at the ceiling, exhaling. „But I fear she was my one true love. I doubt I‘ll ever be able to love someone like that again.“ he mumbled. „Do.. Do you know what it‘s like to have your heart broken?“ his eyes found yours again.

You shook your head „No.. No, I don‘t think I do. Since I have never loved anyone. I did feel some sort of thing for the guys I dated and they sure as hell hurt me but I don't think that feeling comes close to having a broken heart.“ You stood for a moment in silence. Terzo contemplating your words. „But do you want to hear my opinion Papa?“

„Hmm“ he looked up at you „Sure yes tell me what are your thoughts?.“

„I don‘t think that there is just one true love in this world. If you give yourself and someone else a chance, you can find the one that actually is for you. Just because you believe she was the only right one doesn‘t mean she was. If she rejected you i‘d even say she probably wasn‘t the right one yeah?“

Terzo blinked, his mind blown at her perspective.

"Hmm... I... You... You're right," he nodded, "That's quite some wise advice for someone like you." He chuckled, "Where did you learn that?"

You chuckled. „I don‘t know I just kinda have a „gift“ of seeing more than just one perspective on things. There is always a bright side to look up to. And most people don‘t see them when they are down. And I like to remind them because I want to help them.

"Well, you're good at it. I wish I could have that outlook on things." He looked down to the ground, head hanging low.

„Anyway“ he clapped his hands together and smirked moving on and changing the topic suddenly, "Do you enjoy your time here in the Ministry? I understand it can be boring, which is why I try to make my office as inviting as I can. So my, ah, „guests“ don't get too... bored." He teased. You noticed the very odd looking objects he had stuffed into cupboards or on shelves. Many of them surely occult, some more normal for an office space. Paper stacks, pens, organizers and envelopes and a magnifying glass lay on the desk, some decorative items such as a small statue of Baphomet and a small accompanying dagger with the sigil of Baphomet lay on the edge of his desk. In the other corner of the room on a podest lay a very expensive looking Satanic Bible. Next to the podest stood very high candleholders with halfway burned down black and crimson candles.

„Well thank you. I quite like it here. This place is to my liking.“ you replied „You managed to archive that with your office since i was intrigued enough to come in here.“

Terzo took a moment and looked at you before speaking up again. "Hmm, do you know that you're rather pretty, Sorella?" Terzo asked with a smirk, "I could stare into those eyes all day."

Papa was trying to get her riled up again, to see if he could get her to blush. But at the same time, he genuinely meant what he said.

Oh no he is back again now. I know what he is trying to do. He does not actually mean it that fucker. „There he goes again.“ you muttered to yourself. „It won‘t work man. But keep trying. You‘ll eventually have to accept your defeat.“ you responded.

"Oh, but that's because you haven't seen me really try. Maybe if I tried this...?" Terzo smirked, closing the distance between you again.

He put a hand under your chin and tilted your face to meet his gaze. He stared into your pretty eyes for a long moment, his own mismatched eyes full of fire.

"There's nothing I could do to get you to fall for me? Even this?" He asked. You smirked at him and visibly gulped. „If it was anyone but you Papa I might get weak. But you? No, I could never give you a chance.“ you explained to him.

"Oho, that's what you think." Terzo took a few breaths, steadying himself as he pushed her back into the wall. „Are you flirting with me Sorella? "You said anyone but me but I think if I really did try, you'd start to feel... something. Or maybe.. you already do?" Terzo smirked in return, still holding your chin with his gloved hand, "Let's try one more time, eh? What's the point of giving up so soon? He once again leaned in closing the distance more.

You stare into his eyes, face inches apart. „Papa I am honest with you. There is nothing you could do that would make me change my mind here. I don‘t want a guy to just play me and drop me when he gets what he wants. My self respect is too high for that.“

"And who says that's what I'm doing?" Terzo asked, tilting his head.

His other hand gently caressed the side of your cheek now, slowly moving back and forth on your soft skin.

"How do you know that I'm just a flirt? That I would just drop you like that?" He asked quietly. „You don‘t deserve to be treated that shitty, no.“

As much as you wanted to fight it, his words had an effect on you. You started to understand why everyone around you was so enthralled with him. He was a truly charming man. You knew that the moment he kissed the back of your hand in that smooth manner but you could not let him get to you.

„It’s very obvious papa. You‘re just trying to prove your point here. If I were to give in, the worst you would do is laugh at me and rub it in my face how you knew I couldn‘t resist the glorious and irresistible Papa Terzo. And at best you would seduce me into your bed for one night and the next morning forget about me. Don‘t think I don't know that kind of man! I may have never truly loved anyone but I had my fair share of partners over the years. They are all the same and I swore never to fall for someone like that anymore.“

"Oho, you say all that? And yet..." Terzo smirked, moving his hand away from your chin, only to begin caressing your collarbone instead before he spoke again. "You seem to be attracted to me? You may deny it, but you are, aren’t you?" He teased with his deep husky voice.

His touches and voice was slowly breaking down your walls, but you laughed it off, masking your growing attraction to his very essence. „You wish papa, you wish. I am just trying to be respectful because you are Papa. And I couldn't exactly slap you can I?“

At this point Terzo had to admit he was starting to doubt his impact on her. He simply wasn‘t used to any of the sisters denying him. In fact they all nearly fought to spend the night with him and this Sister here was testing his patience. It only made him desire her more.

Terzo let his hand slowly slip over your chest area, testing the waters of your comfort zone.

"Oh, you could slap me if you wanted to." He smiled, "I doubt you would, though. I think you like me." He moved his face an inch closer to your ear, whispering seductively. "I think you want me to do... this..." he breathed out.

He suddenly kissed your neck and as fast as he had leaned in he pulled back, the same smirk still glued to his face.

Your eyes widened and your heartbeat quickened when you felt Papa kiss your neck. It stunned you and for the short moment you got lost in the feeling before you could shake yourself out of it and regain your senses. You slowly pushed papa off of you. “Nope no. Don‘t do that. I never gave you permission to do that.“ you warned with a shaky voice, not sounding as nearly as convincing as you wanted to.

Terzo chuckled darkly, his eyes glancing upward as he let his right eyebrow twitch, "Hmmm... But I did it regardless."

He moved close to you again, smirking down at you. "It seems you lost all your composure, eh? And I thought I wouldn't make you squirm..“ the last part he mostly mumbled to himself.

You eventually wiggled yourself around between his arms and managed to get a little bit of distance between you. „You are the worst Terzo. You belong to horny jail. Really are you down that bad? I could give you a list of Sisters that would gladly spend the night with you.“ you nearly hissed, trying to get him off of you by luring him with another Sister.

„Ha so I‘m the worst? But you‘re getting all worked up over me bella.“ he smirked, his nose almost touching yours. „So, what? You‘re offering me someone else? Do you want me to take my attention off of you?“ a smug smile on his face.

God he is so full of himself you thought.

You pointed your finger at him. „Yes! Yes you are. You are enjoying this. You are even having fun doing this, you‘re insufferable.“ After you took a moment to compose yourself you continued. „And yes I could give you a list if you‘d like. If that gets you off of me that is.“

„Oh is that so?“ Terzo asked interested.

„Yes I know one Sister who would be perfect for you actually. She keeps talking about you nonstop. Terzo here.. Terzo there.. she literally never shuts up.“

„Now who is that Sister you are talking about, mh?“ he wanted to know. Of course he wants to know. That horny motherfucker. „What is she saying about me? Does she think of me often, yes? Does she think of me in bed?“ At this point he was probably creating scenarios in his own head, You assumed.

„Oh look at that. Someone interested, huh?“ You teased him.

He looked back at you. „Give me her name bella. Let me talk to this lovely sister. Perhaps she can be my little plaything for the night?“

The scowl on your face was instant. „Are you fucking serious right now? All you‘re going to do now is use the poor girl and then throw her away?“

„She‘s not a poor girl if she wants me.“ He lifted a finger. „Now tell me what‘s her name?“ Papa leaned in his mouth close to your ear now, whispering „what is her name bella?“, nibbling on your earlobe. He was messing with you and you knew it but it actually felt so good you had to pinch yourself to shake him off of you.

„If I am going to give you her name you promise me to be honest with her and make your intentions clear? She will not get hurt by you?“

„Of course bella. I am not that cruel. “ Terzo grinned wickedly. „I promise you this yes? No tricks and no deception on my part.“

You contemplated for a moment and ultimately decided it was not your responsibility and both were adults who clearly would enjoy each others company so you gave him the name.

„Sister Emma. It‘s sister Emma. She has the biggest crush on you.“ you sighed

Instead of backing away from you as you expected him to, he kept you between his arms.

„Hm Sister Emma you say?“ Terzo smirked. „What has she been saying about me?“ His Hand slowly, carefully moved towards your face, his gaze wandering to your lips. He couldn‘t hold back his now mischievous smile.

„Satan please Papa, you should ask her yourself don‘t you think? And stop touching me! While you ask her you can touch her all you want or all she wants yeah? So you can keep your hands to yourself right now.“ you tell him, lightly struggling against him. You were not really trying to get out of his grasp. You didn‘t feel threatened by him but you were adamant of telling him off and you wanted him to be the one realizing his defeat, which he apparently couldn't or wouldn‘t anytime soon.

„Hm but what if I don‘t want to stop touching you? You are attractive, after all.“ Terzo smirked, pressing his body further into yours. His gaze shifted to your lips and he reached his hand behind your head to move it closer to his own. You realized what he was about to do and your eyes widened. This time he was about to lock his lips on to yours and you quickly pulled your hand up and put it in front of your face so his mouth connected with your hand.

„I am not your little plaything Papa!“

„Hmm you‘re so close.. yet so far“ he mumbled against your skin. “You want me but you‘re denying it. Why Sorella? Why do you not let me pleasure you?“ his hand wraps around your hand now holding it in place as he starts softly kissing your wrist now.

„Tell me Sorella, does this hurt or does it…“ he paused nibbling on your sensitive skin. „Or does it feel good?“ You could not deny that man knew what he was doing. His mouth felt amazing against your skin but you would not let him toy with you. No, in fact you had an idea.

You were shocked he was being so gentle. „Lord please, you are insane really. How do you even come up with this on the spot? You wiggled around, purposely rubbing against him, pretending to try to get out of his grasp. „Papa, if anyone sees us like that they will get the wrong impression.“ you tried, sounding disgustingly cute, even to your own ears.

"Hmm? What's the problem with that?" Terzo smirked, moving closer to your neck. His voice was gentle yet still full of his playful charm.

He moved his face slightly so he was close to kissing the crook of your neck, "Does this... Make you uncomfortable?" He whispered, slowly moving his lips up on your skin.

You wiggled around more, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, making goosebumps run up your spine. „Papa please..“ you pleaded, sounding desperate and lost.

He groaned „Mhm, that only makes me want you more.“ he chuckled and started nibbling on your skin.

You gasped, it wasn‘t like you were not expecting this. You knew he was going to do it but the prickling feeling on your skin, everytime his lips connected to your skin was not something you got used to easily. Terzo moved down to your collarbone, leaving soft kisses and nibbles there.

„You‘re enjoying this Sorella..“ he mumbled against your skin, with a playful yet dangerous tone in his voice. „Say you like it..“ he whispered.

At this point you were sure he was doing this mostly to prove a point, not to you no but to himself. He was obsessed with you agreeing. He needed you to say it, to give in and you knew he would not stop if you didn‘t. But you were not finished with your plan yet. You needed him to get frustrated before you could get to step number two.

„No.. no I don‘t.“ you whispered back.

"Yes you do, bella... I can tell.." Terzo replied, nibbling at your collarbone again.

He moved his lips to your neck and kissed it. "Tell me you enjoy this..." He kissed your neck again. "Tell me you enjoy the way I touch you..."

Terzo smiled down at you, his gaze still fixated on your neck. Lord he was obsessed with your neck. He looked like a predator, like he was getting closer to his prize.

Your eyes fell shut and your arms came to rest on Terzos shoulders. Just a little more. You thought. „No please just let me go. I promise I will send Sister Emma to you right away.“ you fake whined, your breath hitching towards the end of the sentence. You were nailing this.

Terzo chuckled quietly, his lips still attached to your skin. He was moving to the other side now, repeating the same actions. „Do you really want me to stop?“ His face lingered against your skin, caressing it with his lips and tongue. „Say you want me to continue.“

„N.. no please stop.“ you stammered. Now was the time. You started to move against him, rolling your hips forward directly into his, the movement painfully slow.

Terzo groaned and his body froze for a split second. You had him where you wanted him.

Terzo ran up his hands over your hips, his voice becoming more and more seductive as he whispered to you, "Do you feel that?" He started nibbling your neck again, "Do you feel... how you want more? How you crave my lips against your neck?"

Terzo breathed softly against your ear, "You want me..." He moved his lips to your face, his words full of confidence and lust.

You pulled him closer to you, so his body was now pressed flush against yours. He took that as a sign and hummed, pushing your legs open with his knee, moving impossibly closer.

You waited patiently for the right moment to strike, craning your neck for him to get better access. He welcomed your action by attacking your skin, trailing hot kissed up and down until he reached the spot right under your earlobe. For a moment you relished in the feeling, but eventually you had to make your move. You suddenly grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, switching your positions, his back colliding with the wall. You pinned him down, grabbing his wrists so he wouldn‘t get out of your grasp too easily. „Okay Papa, enough of your teasing.“ You stared at him, face just a few centimeters away, waiting for his reaction.

Terzo gasped. „Oho Sorella..“ his deep voice echoed in the room as he grinned up at you, his pupils dilating, full of desire and lust. You had just triggered something in him. His eyes dipped down to your lips and he couldn‘t stop thinking how beautiful and lush they looked from up close.

„Well I‘m impressed.. I didn‘t think you would do such a bold move on me.“ He looked to your arms, pinning his wrists to the wall.

You mustered up your most seductive gaze and looked him straight in the eyes, mumbling to yourself. „Now where were we..“ your eyes wandered down on his body, pressing yours further into his as your face came closer to his neck this time. You started breathing heavily into his ear and your started grazing his skin with your lips and teeth softly, moaning quietly as you pressed soft, lingering kisses onto his flesh.

The man in front of you shivered, a mix of pleasure and anticipation building up in him. His eyes fluttered closed as he took a deep breath. „Ohh.. my.. Sorella..“ Terzo stammered out as your lips connected to his neck.

You worked your way down his neck until he bucked his hips forward. You smirked against his skin and started to lick that spot, softly nibbling and sucking on it.

He hissed „Uh yess..“ You looked up at him with your mouth still attached to his neck and he looked slightly vulnerable. It surprised you and deep inside of you something was coming undone. You sucked on the spot even harder making him slouch back into the wall. His breathing became labored and you knew you had to keep going.

„My neck.. is so sensitive..“ he muttered. „And you‘re so gentle sorella…“

Your hands started to roam over his slender body, while your mouth moved up to his jawline, kissing him gently. You made your way to his ear and whispered „Papa you‘re so kissable.. and so tasty.. I wonder how you really taste.“ you continued to nibble on his earlobe which earned you a throaty moan and a whispered „Cazzo“. You chuckled „Are you enjoying this Papa?“ you asked seductively, lifting his shirt up to feel the bare skin of his stomach. Your fingertips softly, ghosting over his soft flesh.

The man under your fingertips shivered as he answered you. „Oh yesss sorella..“ his voice trembled and his eyes were still closed. His breathing became more ragged and rapid with each passing second that you worked on him. „This is..“ he sounded completely lost in the moment right now. „..incredible Sorella… I want you. You‘re so good with your mouth.“ he moaned.

You nibbed on his skin more. „I am just returning the favor, Papa.“ you stated with a sultry voice.

Terzo bit his lip, stifling a moan as his breathing became more shallow. „You are going to be the death of me..“ he said, finally looking back at you and capturing your chin with his hand and pulling you closer to his face. In his eyes were blazing flames now you could see them burning hot for you. „Let me taste you Sorella..“ he nearly begged?? You were not sure if you heard correctly but he sounded quite desperate. Your plan was working out better than you expected.

You raised one eyebrow at him. „Papa I haven’t even started yet. You replied cockily. „Let me take care of you, yes? You deserve this. You deserve to feel good, ok Papa?“

To accentuate the point of your words you rolled your hips into his, you continued to rub up and against him with sensual moves as your lips latched back onto his neck. Terzo couldn‘t even answer he threw his head back against the wall with a thump and moaned out loud this time. You began to move faster against him and you could clearly feel his hard erection against your thigh now. You angled your body differently and rubbed the head of his cock against your throbbing core, a jolt of pleasure running through you and you couldn‘t hold back your own needy moan that escaped your own lips.

Your underwear was now drenched, you were certain and you yearned for more friction. Thank Satan that beside being worked up yourself you could still control yourself. It was all going to be worth it just to see his face after this.

Terzo apparently was doing much worse than you. He was completely lost in the feeling, his hands started to run down your body, every curve and bump he was grazing, until they found their way to your ass. He grabbed it and pressed you harder into his own hard cock, guiding your movements against him.

„Ahh Sorella.. what are you doing to me.. please don‘t stop.“ he moaned. You kept rubbing into him, feeling your own arousal leaking down your legs.

„Keep going…“ Terzo groaned, eyes never leaving yours. He couldn‘t believe how much pleasure he was experiencing with that many clothes still attached to your bodies. In fact he never experienced anything like this. It turned him on. A lot. For the first time ever he began to get worried he might come in his pants if you kept going like that.

„Tell me Sorella..“ he was breathing hard. „Do you want me?“, as the words left his lips, a small moan escaped him again.

You didn‘t answer him, just hummed against the crook of his neck. „I want many things Papa.“ you successfully evaded his question. „And I do need to get laid some time soon.“ you told him honestly. „But I don‘t know if you‘ll be the one for me.“ you still teased him.

„Tch..“ he sighed and ran his fingers through your hair. „Why do you have to be so cruel to me amore?“ „Sweet Satanas you're turning me on so much..“ his voice became more desperate. „Why won‘t you let me take care of you, mh? You can take care of your Papa after that?“ he suggested.

Your eyes found his mismatched ones. „Do you…“ you looked away shyly.. „Do you want to make me moan Papa?“ Your gaze coming back to his own. „Do you want me to moan for you? Do you want me to scream out your name?“ You rubbed your leg against the bulge between his legs, acting all innocent and cute for him.

He quivered under your touch, breathing in again. „Yess.. I.. I want to make you moan and scream. I want you to call for me as you come undone for me.“ he wrapped his loose arm around, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, while the other continued kneading your ass. „I.. I want this, I want us.. I want you…Please…“ he pleaded breathlessly, in his eyes now a mixture between vulnerability and desire. An odd combination for someone as cocky and overconfident as he was.

You distanced yourself from him, laughing out loud, head rolling back. „Now look who is at my mercy now.“ Terzo whimpered at the loss and stared at you with big puppy dog eyes.

„Now you got a taste of your own medicine Papa. I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted. It will never happen again.“ you exclaimed proudly, smiling down at him. Terzo stood there dumbfounded, back still leaning against the wall, slightly slouched down. It was a sight to behold. You could tell he was lost. Lost for words and certainly lost for what to do now. Not even a frown was forming on his features.

„Now if you‘ll excuse me. I have work to finish. Have a good day Papa.“ as you started to walk away you suddenly remembered something and turned around. „Oh and uh should I send Sister Emma over? You know she might help you with your uh.. condition.“ you gestured to the very visible tent in his pants, winking.

[casualghostfan]

Poison, chapter 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

A/N: Reyna, half ghoul and half human, has always stuck out like a sore thumb. But not to cardinal Terzo. But what changes when the cardinal is to become Papa? (Largely inspired by Poison by Alice Cooper)

Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, fuff, angst, hurt/comfort, not beta-read (this is my first fic so feel free to suggest other warnings)

Her mind was a fuzzy ball of tangled thoughts. The adrenaline rush gave way to exhaustion long before Terzo finished bandaging her up, but the distant sting of terror remained ingrained in her brain. When Reyna broke into the infirmary, she didn't expect anyone to discover her here, but as she felt two strong arms cradling her body, one of them slowly caressing her hair, she felt grateful. Even if it was Terzo, her sworn enemy.

Oh, how quickly she fell into her old habits. It was so simple, to be held like this by him, to be so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin. He still smelled of incense, just like he used to. If it wasn't for the events of this evening, she would have pulled back immediately. But right now, she couldn't muster a reason to do so. Not when she felt so safe there.

She felt his voice vibrating in his chest as he spoke. “Cara, are you sleeping?” She answered with a little shake of her head, though sleep was surely trying to take over her. She felt his warm fingers, now ungloved, softly trying to lift her chin up. A groan escaped her lips as she looked up at him, eyes half-closed already.

“You cannot stay here.” Reyna frowned. Was he trying to get rid of her? Was he annoyed? Maybe she reached the limit of his pity. She pulled back, feeling stung by his words.

“I'm sorry. I will go as soon as I clean this mess up,” she half-whispered with a raspy voice. Terzo just waved his hand as if trying to swat her words away.

“I will send someone to clean this up.” When he saw the worry in her eyes, he added: “Someone discreet.”

She sighed and tried to pull herself to stand. Her legs weren't exactly cooperating with her. They shook with exhaustion that settled itself deep in her very bones. Maybe crawling to bed would be better, since she felt like her knees would buckle any moment now. Terzo tutted disapprovingly.

“Do you truly think I would let you walk back to the den?”

“But you said-”

“I said you cannot stay here. But the den is out of question now. I didn't spend all this time bandaging you up just so you could get killed in your sleep.” The left corner of his lips tugged upwards.

“I don't want to sleep here in the infirmary, so the den- '' Reyna didn't get to finish her sentence as two warm hands found their way to her cheeks. Terzo lowered his face to her level, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Satanas, woman, I found you all bloody and frightened. Let me rephrase my previous question. Do you think I will let you out of my sight just like that?” he growled. Despite the anger in his voice, his hands remained soft. His thumb caressed her cheek lightly. “You are sleeping in my quarters tonight.”

She scrunched her eyebrows in an expression of refusal as she faintly recalled she should be upset at the man before her. “Absolutely not.”

“I wasn't asking.”

She tried to fish some argument out of her fuzzy brain, but before she could even say something, the floor was swept from under her feet as Terzo swiftly but carefully picked her up in his arms. Squirming a little, she demanded to be put down, but her request wasn’t met with any kind of answer. Terzo just kicked the infirmary door open as he began the walk to his quarters, the weed he was trying to steal from his brother long forgotten.

“I can walk, you know.”

“Dolcezza, I won't let you take even a single step. I was surprised you could even stay upright.”

She didn't have much to say to that as it was a surprise for her, too. They both remained quiet, his footsteps being the only thing heard in the silence of the dark hallway. The rhythmic sound and slight swaying motion of his arms as he took one step after another was beginning to lull her to sleep. She fought the urge for a moment, determined not to spend the night in the papal quarters, but the need to close her eyes was just too strong. 

“You are so demanding.”

“I know, dolcezza, but the devil doesn't bargain and neither do I.”

Reyna’s chest was rhythmically rising and falling as sleep overtook her. Terzo tried to step softly so he would not wake her, but also quickly so no one could see them together. The last thing he wanted was to try to explain why he was carrying the ghoulette into his quarters in the middle of the night. He wouldn't be able to lie his way out of this.

As he approached the door leading to his rooms, a shadowy figure stepped into the light. He recognized the person as one of his ghouls, Omega.

“I need you to clean up the infirmary. You will find a ghoulette mask - bring it to me.” Omega nodded and took a step, but Terzo stopped him. “Omega, you have seen nothing,” he warned. The ghoul’s eyes filled with understanding as he nodded and went on his way.

Terzo fumbled with the door, trying to get it open. Finally, he succeeded, but Reyna stirred in his arms and clung to him with her hand, her eyebrows furrowed with the disturbance. He kicked the door shut softly and made his way to his large bed. The ghoulette whimpered as he carefully placed her on the soft mattress. He caressed her cheek in an attempt to wake her from her deep slumber, but to no effect.

“Reyna, mia cara, we have to get you out of these dirty clothes,” he spoke softly, but she remained asleep. Terzo cursed under his breath. She would hate him in the morning for what he was about to do, but he couldn't let her sleep like this.

He began delicately trying to undress the woman, but given how skilled he usually was in this matter, he felt anxious. How will he manage to get her into something clean without waking you up? Thankfully, as he slipped down her pants, she seemed to rouse a bit. He decided to take advantage of the moment and quickly produced a clean shirt from his dresser.

“Dolcezza, do you think you could sit up a little? Just for a moment.”

She did so, though her mind and body remained hungry for more slumber. Terzo quickly pulled a clean shirt over her head as he supported her back with one hand. As soon as he was done, she fell into the pillows, wincing in her sleep as her injured shoulder met with the resistance.

Terzo sighed. He didn't let his thoughts wander where they pulled him. To scenarios where she would not escape her attacker. Where he would not find her. No, she was here and she was safe. And he would keep it that way.

He pulled a blanket over her, tucking her in. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. The urge to caress her, to kiss her was too strong, but he only allowed himself a kiss on her forehead. It didn't rouse her even a little bit. Swiftly, he pulled his own clothing off except for his underwear. He was too tired to try to find his pyjamas. As he grabbed a spare blanket and turned off the light, he made his way to the sofa. But as he settled into the pillows, a soft voice whispered across the room.

“Terzo?”

“Sì, cara?”

“I don't want to be alone.”

“You're not alone. I'm right here, dolcezza.”

“Can you… come here?”

He didn't say anything as he pondered. Maybe for a moment too long.

“I'm sorry. Good night.” Reyna said. Her voice quivered a bit. Was she crying?

If he wasn't already keen to accept her request, this made him decide. He stood up and the sound of his steps was the only thing disturbing the quiet darkness. The mattress bent under his weight as he laid down beside the ghoulette.

“You will hate me for this. And yourself, probably.”

“I know. But that is a problem for the morning.”

Terzo let out a sigh. “Vieni qui. I'll keep the nightmares at bay.”

[momentosofmelancholy]

Okay, in the name of honesty, I’m sick with anxiety about it but I DID IT! I wrote chapter one of the fanfic that has been living in my head since I jumped on the Ghost train. Allow me to present to you:

EL TANGO DE DIABLO CHAPTER ONE: Fairies Wear Sneakers and You’ve Got to Believe Me

Length: 3,300 words // 7 pages

Excerpt: 

A large part of him demanded that he give up this entire chase, to remind himself that he could think like a rational person… but there was a small, whispering part of him that believed that if he returned him, he would be murdered. For what reason, he wasn’t sure, but something that he knew with absolutely certainty was that the whisper should not have existed. That if there wasn’t some air of truth to what the letter had detailed, he wouldn’t have felt so inclined to run off the way he had. There was something within him, within this situation that demanded him to listen to his instinctual nature that he often laid to the wayside as nothing more than abject paranoia. However, standing there in the wake of his cold-sweat realizations, he knew that he only had one option that resulted in a future with breath in his tired lungs. 

[dontyoufeelitangel]

Hello Ghesties, Ghouls & Ghoulettes! Welcome to Angels run-down show-down, where I (Angel) do a run down of the Ghovie for all you lovely folk!!

Didn’t get the chance to see the Ghovie aka Rite Here Rite Now? Fear not for I am here! This post will contain a run-down of what happened during the Ghovie.

So this is your warning:

‼️SPOILERS AHEAD ‼️

I will be breaking this down into separate parts:

Lore: contains all lore that was mentioned

Songs: songs that were played

And Theatrics: stage play and other attributes that happened.

Another fair warning: there is a possibility that not everything that happened in the movie is noted here, I may have forgotten some things!! But I will do my best to include everything🤍

Additional notes: many fans including me were worried that this project would be incredibly low quality due to the fact it’s a movie operated by a band. More so worried that the movie would be the same quality as the YouTube episodes. I can confirm that the camera quality for this movie is amazing. You can compare the filmography to Taylor swifts era tour movie. Each shot for rite here rite now is shot with a high-to-low speed motion camera. The audio quality is above and beyond, even nihils ghost is very detailed and realistic. Every film shot is synchronized with the songs and instruments (example: camera changes for each beat/camera focuses on certain ghouls for their assigned solo)

Lore:

Story: the plot of the ghovie is a showcase of their Kia forum concert mixed with short lore scenes. Between every 2-3 songs there would be a scene of Copia running behind stage and talking with imperator and nihil OR getting dressed and ready for his next performance.

When he talked with imperator and nihil, he mostly talked to them about what would happen after the concert. Nihil and imperator told him numerous times that he was “focusing to much on the past and future instead of living in the moment, living right here, right now.”

Copia realizes this before he does his encore, so he goes out and does a great encore assuming he’ll soon die. After the encore and when the concert is finished, unfortunately imperator dies and gives a note to Copia.

The note states that he will not die, but rather be gifted a new higher status in the clergy. In which he’ll further be known as Frater (Latin for brother, which makes sense if we think about the title for sister imperator). And because there is no head for the ghost project they will bring in a new front man. The movie ends before the front man is revealed and we are left on a cliffhanger.

The lore for the ghovie is very similar and the same to what we already know! Not to much was revealed but here were the key points of what was mentioned:

⭐️the other brothers were not directly mentioned or shown on camera. The only references to the other emeritus brothers was the backdrop for the stage (stained glass windows portraying the previous brothers & nihil)

⭐️it was confirmed that Nihil was copias father and that during the kiss the go-goat music video sister imperator was pregnant with Copia.

⭐️Copia even acknowledges nihil as his dad, in one scene where he says “thanks dad”

⭐️sister imperator ends up passing at the end of the movie but becomes a spirit and is seen with the rest of the spirits (nihil and the twins, yes, the twins seem in the YouTube episodes apparently have died)

⭐️the ghouls were not to involved with the lore except for the fact they all surrounded imperators dead body when she passed. (Idk if this counts as lore but) the ghouls also talked in the movie, only for a small scene though. Bass ghoul (Rain) is the ghoul that talked.

⭐️nihil says that he produced three songs. The third song is the one we see during the credits. Song is : the future is a foreign land, as shown here:

SONGS:

The songs that played were the ones that were played at the Kia forum shows. Songs that where played included:

⚡️imperium (pre - opener)

⚡️Kaisarion (opener/curtain pull) (also if I remember correctly there was a short clip of a harp but I’m not sure if it was being played or not during that song.)

⚡️rats

⚡️faith

⚡️spillways

⚡️Cirice (he ciriced the camera making it look like he Ciriced us)

⚡️Absolution

⚡️ritual

⚡️call me little sunshine

⚡️con clavi con dio

⚡️ watcher in the sky

⚡️ if you have ghosts (acoustic version with two cellos, violin & harp ghoulettes. As well as a background vocalist ghoulette who did absolutely amazing! Also papa gives a speech about how “everyone is important and that their presence at that concert was inspiring”)

⚡️dominion

⚡️ Twenties (body painted skeleton dancers came out and performed on stage, they did cartwheels, threw eachother around and even picked up cardi)

⚡️year zero

⚡️spoksonat

⚡️he is (I cried)

⚡️miasma (nihil told Copia that he didn’t want to die, but even when he did he was still happy because he got to perform and bring joy to people temporarily when they revived him. Nihil also told Copia to focus on the good in life)

⚡️Mary on a cross (animated in a scooby-doo style, where nihil chases around imperator as she fights him and runs away)

⚡️ mummy dust

⚡️respite on the spitalfields

⚡️ kiss the go-goat

⚡️dance macabre (skeleton dancers come out for a second time with silk fans)

⚡️square hammer

THEATRICS:

Some silly theatrics that happened include:

💙Copia huffing the gas from a whip-cream can before performing.

💙jumped in a storage transfer crate and had a whole convo with nihil.

💙has a the tour manager (Ashley) come out on stage and change his shoes for him.

💙only Copia can see the spirits of his family, so when he would talk to nihil or imperator, spectators around him would think he’s crazy and talking to himself.

💙many of the behind the scenes crew of the band were included in the movie such as : Ashley(tour manager), and many of the security guards & jesus( you know who lol)

💙remember when everyone was freaking out about the fact there’d be a blowjob reference? Yeah well there was no actual blow job scene, the warning for the blow job was for when Kyle aka Jesus came out and blew away the confetti.

💙there is also a scene at the end in which Copia is flying away from the concert (I guess that’s his preferred way of transportation lol??) he is flying in the hot air balloon we see in the cover for rite here rite now. He flies into space before falling, ouch!

💙during his flight there’s a montage of sister imperator being pregnant with him, during this montage we see twins. Twin babies, twin children. We are unsure if this is a reference to Tobias’s twins or if Copia has a twin.

.

If I forgot to add anything or got info wrong please feel free to leave a comment and I will correct myself as fast as possible!!

Don’t you feel it Angel? I do⚡️

[angellayercake]

RITE HERE RITE NOW RANT

Where were the other Papas??⁉️? It isn't right that they had a combined thirty seconds of screen time!! 😡😡 If it wasn't for them Then copua wouldn't even this opportunity would he?🚫?

ANd to make it worse🤬 it was lonG‼️So there should have been more time.to. honour papas of the past🙌 but I have already made this point. I had to go to the BATHROOM🚽two times 2️⃣ because it was so long. also who wants tolook at him that long anyway👹

why??????❓❔⁉️ does he get so many outfits! Designer outfits twenty of the same jackets in different colours??🔵🔴🟡⚫🟢 some papas just wore their robes(boring) and some papas were forced to have their shirts sewn into their jackets with very improper tailoring just because ""if you INsist on white gloves that need To be changed every day we have to cut costs elsewhere👿"* but cooia gets two robes ANS everything else???

Papa Iii is much more handsome 🧛and would look much better in the hd4k surroundsound big screen then HIM SO papa iiI deserves a film more and they should bring jim back just to show everyone this😏 and go show the people what its like to see songs sang. Properly!!! you have not been ciriced until you have been ciriced by papa 3💜💜💟 or so I have heard snyway...

YHE ONLY THING that is good is that it accurately shows what a rude SELFish self absorbed man this cOPis is(although the old man deserves no respect 👍🏻👍🏻) just tonight he ate the last cannoli without offering to aNYONE!!! ELSE‼️‼️ SO this i do think the film does right

BUT....

The door slams open and he almost drops his phone in surprise. He was sat where he had been sat all evening, collapsed into this chair in the clergy commons after his disappointing dinner, thinking. His expression soured even further now it seemed another one of his brothers was here to ruin his day.

"Are you reading reviews of the movie again, frattelino?" Secondo asks, squinting at him across the dark room. "There is steam coming from your ears."

"I am not reading them no," he smirks a little, pushing the glasses he usually pretends not to need up his nose before continuing to tap away at his phone with his pointer finger. Secondo flicks on the light switch disrupting him once again with the blinding light so he shoots him a quick glare before resuming his somewhat frantic yet stilted typing.

"I do not like that look," he accuses, pointing at him as he crosses the room. "What are you doing then?" He circles the armchair in which Terzo is slouched, leaning around to look at the screen over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he pulls the phone to his chest to hide the screen. "Why must you stick your big old nose where it is not wanted eh?"

"Let me see!" He tries to wriggle away from his brother's seeking hand, tustling each other like they used to when they were children. He almost slides free but his escape is thwarted but his stupidly large brothers hand clamping onto his shoulder and pulling away his phone with the other.

"Give that BACK!" He struggles out of the squishy chair pushing his glasses back up into his hair so he can glare uninterrupted at his brother who is now scrolling through his review, shaking his head and tutting like a stupid old chicken.

"Terzo this isn't very nice," he says it so patronisingly he has to resist stamping his foot in frustration. Why should he be nice! He never got a moment like this and if he had he knows he would have done more, done better. And shouldn't Secondo be mad too?

"I stand by what I said," he huffs crossing his arms indignantly. "Aren't you annoyed? That we barely got a mention? Just that we were dead?"

"Well I would say I got about twenty of the thirty seconds we were on screen so how can I complain?" He expects the typical reaction he usually gets when he teases his brother but when Terzo instead, visibly deflates before flopping back into his chair he realises this might be a bit deeper than he thought.

"Terzo, come now, what is really the matter?" He moves to perch on the arm of the chair, handing him back his phone. When he doesn't respond straight away he reaches over to mess with his brother's habitually pristine hair, ruffling it into a birdnest as he used to before whenever Terzo got in his head and needed a distraction.

"Ay!" He shouts batting at his hand but at least he is glaring at him again instead of pouting dejectedly.

"I am happy for Copia, I suppose," he starts hesitantly smoothing his hair back into place. "It's just, we all worked hard too, and yes we may have not been as successful but without us to lay the ground work whose to say he would be 'rite here, rite now'." He waves his hands around, air quoting the title of the film dramatically.

"You are not wrong frattelino," he pauses before continuing trying to decide how to best console him. "But that is not what this story is about. It is about truly experiencing the moment you are in now, and not letting the times of the past or the what ifs of the future ruin it." His shoulders drop with a sigh so he wraps an arm around him squeezing him firmly.

"I just never got to..." He trails off but they both know what he was about to say.

"I know," he squeezes him again. "And none of that makes what they did to you right but that is in the past. People still love us no? We still have many praising us and screaming our names no matter what Copia does. We all have a place. Ours was over there, back then but who knows what the future will bring?" He stops when he sees his brother finally perking up.

"You are right I suppose," he shoots him a sideways glance. "This time at least." He picks up his phone and repositions his glasses on his nose. "I better delete all this then" He starts to tap away at the screen but Secondo stills his hand.

"I didn't say that," He says with a smirk. "You should add one about how his wig looks terrible."

"But Copia doesn't wear a... Oh!" They are far too old for this, Secondo thinks as they giggle like children coming up with more and more ridiculous complaints about the film. But right here, right now, he doesn't care.

[novaiisk]

🔆Terzo is safe in Omegas arms🔆

Everybody makes Terzo all depressed all the time so IM LETTING HIM BE HAPPY FOR ONCE ‼️‼️

[[ PRINT ]] [ part 2 ]

[kabukiaku]

prob should've posted this with the last drawing but oh well. anyways SLIGHTLY SPICY BUT INTIMATE TERZOMEGA LETS GOOOOO!

[ghulehunknown]

Waking up with Papa Headcanons 💤

The below contains Safe For Work headcanons! Gender neutral reader

This morning I woke up daydreaming about having a Papa in my bed and all the cute cuddling and pillow talk we’d do 🥹

Primo

He’s already awake and brushing his teeth by the time you wake up

He’s made you a cup of tea, waiting for you on the bedside table

Kisses you sweetly on the forehead and hugs you before he leaves for the day

Says you are welcome to stay in his bed as long as you want

Secondo

You wake up to his arms protectively wrapped around your body

He already woke up long before you did, but wants to spend as much time with you as possible and didn’t want to leave yet

Has time for a quick cup of coffee and light conversation while he gets ready

Kisses you before leaving

Terzo

You wake up to him planting kisses on your neck and face

Your limbs are all tangled together because he’s wrapped himself tight around you in the night

He can’t get close enough to you and agonizes about leaving because all he wants to do is lay in bed with you all day and do nothing but watch TV and talk

You’re the first one to leave bed; he keeps pulling you back for more kisses, no matter how much you protest that you’re running late (and so is he)

Copia

He’s still snoring but is sleeping on his side, cuddling you with his hand on your waist, drool coming out of his mouth

Smiles when he wakes up and sees you next to him

Spends most of the free time staring into your eyes and talking with you before getting ready

Pulls you in tighter when you get up, and lets out an exasperated groan. “So soon, tesoro?”

Nihil

Laying flat on his back snoring with his mouth wide open

It takes a while to wake him up

Complains about what terrible sleep he got while you lay on his chest as he rubs your back soothingly before getting up for the day

He’s very slow to move or get ready at all, unless he has an important meeting

[mardyart]

papas are teaching italian to ghouls

[copias-juicebox]

yeah so what am i doing instead of writing on it‘s a sin i am 3000 words into a terzo one shot to get this penguin man out of my system. 💅🏻🫡

[casualghostfan]

Poison, chapter 1

This is my first fic on tumblr, so be patient with me, please. Also this is my first fiction after a long writer's block, so if you could hype me up a little, that would be very appreciated ♥ 

A/N: Reyna, half ghoul and half human, has always stuck out like a sore thumb. But not to cardinal Terzo. But what changes when the cardinal is to become Papa? (Largely inspired by Poison by Alice Cooper)

Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, fuff, angst, hurt/no comfort, not beta-read (this is my first fic so feel free to suggest other warnings)

____________________________

The sun had barely begun to shine through the thick foliage behind her window, but Reyna was already up with a pen in her hand and a sketchbook in the other. She needed more time, she needed it to be perfect. There were only a couple of days left until the ascension and by that time, the facepaint for the new Papa had to be chosen. So she relentlessly dragged the pen on the paper, over and over again. Thank Satanas for her half-ghoul eyes. If she were human, it would still be too dark for her to see. Still, she had to squint a little bit. Her eyesight could not match that of a pureblood ghoul.

Reyna gave out a quiet sigh. Not good enough. Her eyesight or the sketch? Maybe both. Being a hybrid between a human and a ghoul, neither side had claimed her to be one of them. She herself was torn in between, not knowing if it would be better to fully accept her ghoulish side or to try to snuff it out completely. Deep down, she wanted it. To be completely human. Her eyes would be blue or green or brown, not unnaturally yellow and cat-like. Her canines wouldn't protrude so much, giving her a toothy smile resembling a shark. Her ears would be round and pretty, not slightly pointy. Her skin would have a pale greyish tint but it could be pink or brown or black, maybe she could even tan a little and would have to worry about the sun scorching her skin and covering it with blisters if she were not careful enough. At least she didn't have a tail. That way, she could at least pretend she had more in common with humans. And maybe that way she could stand by Terzo’s side without shame.

But she knew Terzo didn't mind her cat eyes or sharp teeth. Hell, he would even compliment her on them, saying how much he liked them. Piccola gattina, he would call her. Reyna pretended to hate the nickname, though it made her blush. No, cardinal Terzo didn't mind that his best friend was a half-ghoul. But it won't be long until he ascends. What about then? Cardinal Terzo didn't mind, but would Papa Emeritus Terzo be the same? Reyna could only hope so. But alas, he never gave her a reason not to trust him. So she bit her lip and concentrated once more on the paper in front of her, pouring all her love and faith for Terzo into the sketch.

When he asked her to design his papal paint, she couldn't believe it. “Terzo, I am no artist. What if it gets rejected? Don't you want a professional to do it?” she panicked a little bit, but the cardinal smiled and caressed her shoulder reassuringly. 

“Cara, there is no one better for the task than mia piccola gattina. You have been by my side since we were children. I want to bear the strokes of your hand on my face for the rest of my life. A constant reminder of someone I hold so dearly in my heart,” he pressed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, which made her blush. Terzo was always a little flirty with everyone and it made more than one sibling of sin fawn over the young man, but lately he toned it down a lot. A rumour was spreading about the cardinal finally choosing a partner. But it was only a rumour, right?

So there she was, sketching day and night. She designed a few facepaints, not sure which one would Terzo like. Her room was filled with silent sounds of pen scratching against the paper, occasional huffs and puffs of frustration and very faint rustling of leaves in the wind outside the window. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. The sound tore right through the quiet room and left a faint ringing in Reyna’s ears. 

“Gattina, it’s me. I haven’t seen you at breakfast, so I brought you some.” 

Her lips stretched into a wide smile. Of course it was him. He would always take care of her. She shot out of her chair, stretching her limbs a little on her way to the door. Behind it stood Terzo, hair neatly slicked back as always, dressed in his black cassock with an inverted cross hanging from his neck. He would look very serious, if it wasn't for the huge grin on his lips. In his hand he held something that looked like some kind of a sweet pastry. She only hoped so as she snatched it from the cardinal’s hand.

“So, how is the designing process going? Did you make some progress?” Terzo asked as he plopped down on her still unmade bed. 

“Yes, quite a lot actually. I have a few suggestions for you.”

“Cara, I asked for one sketch. You didn't have to trouble yourself and make more.”

“Oh, don't worry, I only made a few,” she waved her hand dismissively and threw him the sketchbook. He caught it mid-air and began browsing through the pages. 

His eyes widened. “A few? This is almost full!” he exclaimed, but Reyna only shrugged her shoulders. He let out a sigh. “You know what? You show me your favourite. What do you think would best suit your soon-to-be Papa?”

Reyna thought very long and hard about it as she flicked through the pages. She didn't realise she was biting her lip until Terzo touched it. It was featherlight, only a brush of leather against her skin. 

“Don't do that, cara,” Terzo said in a voice so quiet it was but a whisper. His eyes shone with something Reyna couldn't quite put her finger on. Something dangerous, maybe. Something fun. But then, as if realising how close he got to her, he cleared his throat and pulled back his gloved hand. 

“So? What's your suggestion? You've been staring into that sketchbook for quite a while now.”

Reyna had to shake her head as if it could help with her scattered thoughts. Her lip still burned with the sudden touch of Terzo’s hand, but she tried not to think about it. She turned the pages a little more until she found what she was looking for.

“This one. I think this one would suit you the most.”

“This one? Isn't it a little bit scary, gattina?”

“Maybe a little bit, but it's also quite sexy, if you ask me.”

He hummed a little. “Sexy, you say? Don't you think I'm sexy enough?” 

She laughed. “Well, you know, you could always use a little help. Satanas knows those papal robes don't really add to the sexappeal.” 

“Oh, but you haven't even seen them, cara. I look spectacular. A true sight to sin.”

“Of course you do,” she rolled her eyes with a smile as she tore the page out of the sketchbook and pressed it into Terzo’s hand. “But still, I think this one is the best.”

“We’ll see what the Clergy thinks about it. I bet Sister Imperator already has a few ideas, but I promise I will try to convince her about it.” With a wink he stretched his hand for the sweet pastry still untouched in Reyna’s hand. She pulled back with a hiss which showed her pointy teeth.

“Don't you try to steal my food!”

“You didn't even touch it yet! Don't you think I deserve a treat for bringing you breakfast to bed?”

“Should have brought your own.” she growled and started to shove the pastry down her throat so quickly she almost choked on it. Terzo lunged at her, bringing her down onto the bed with him. But by that time, she had already stuffed all of the pastry into her mouth with only a piece sticking out of her lips. Terzo hovered above her, his chest suddenly rising and falling rapidly. Reyna could almost feel his heart beating like that of a race horse. His eyes shot down to her lips, then back up to her eyes.

“I think I should at least get a taste,” he whispered and lowered himself. His lips skimmed hers shortly as he took a bite. With closed eyes he moaned silently and she was glad he couldn't see her. Her greyish skin did nothing to hide her red cheeks.

He opened his eyes. “Strawberry jam? No wonder you didn't want to share.” He licked his lips slowly. “I would have absolutely devoured it.”

Could she be any more red? Reyna didn't think so. Terzo chuckled and the vibrating sound sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly, he pulled away and Reyna immediately found herself missing the heat of his body.

Terzo stood up and straightened his cassock. He looked once more at the sketch, then neatly folded it and stuffed it into his pocket. As he turned to leave, he looked over his shoulder.

“You're right, cara. Dangerous and sexy. That suits me the best.”

___________________________________________

Reyna couldn't help it. She replayed the events of this morning in her head over and over again until her smile couldn't get any wider. She even left her canines poking out of her mouth a little, something she meticulously tried to always hide when she was in public. Today, she had been assigned to work in the garden, something she truly despised and not only because of the sun nipping at her nape constantly. But right now, the garden work didn't seem that bad.

The siblings of sin gathered before Primo. Once the chatter settled, he started giving out tasks, reading the names from a paper in his hand.

“Reyna - weeding.”

She nodded. Primo waited for her usual eyeroll or a deep sigh, but it never came. He thought it strange, but did not comment on it.

The weeding did dampen her mood a little bit. Reyna hated how messy it was, how the gloves felt against her hand, but going gloveless meant dirt behind her nails that she would then later have to scrub out. So she stuck with the gloves. The sun didn't have much strength to its rays given it was only the middle of spring, but Reyna was glad for her long sleeved shirt and the sunhat she decided to wear. Direct sunlight was always a pain for her.

She finished weeding one large flower bed and stood up, stretching a little. Maybe it was time for a little break? Sure, she must have been working for hours by now. She decided to seek shelter under the large willow tree. Her and Terzo always favoured that place and frequently hung out there. But as she was about to turn the corner, she heard voices. One, she was very familiar with. The other, however, she was not.

The male voice sounded flirtatious, as always. The female one giggled. Then there was a suspicious silence. Reyna decided to take a peek. But right as she did, she suddenly wished she would have just left, that she wouldn't be so stupid and nosy and just found another place to rest. Because underneath that willow tree she spotted Terzo with another sister of sin. She was sprawled across his lap, kissing him and he… Oh, Satanas, he was kissing her back.

Reyna’s whole world began to spin fast. Nausea overcame her. She stumbled and it must have made a sound, because the kissing couple suddenly turned their attention to her.

“I'm sorry. I- I'll just go,” she mumbled and turned around. Her feet began walking fast through the weaving paths of the garden. Everything around her was a blur. Maybe because of the spinning sensation that still lingered, but Reyna suspected it had something to do with the tears that stung her eyes.

She felt a large hand on her shoulder halting her escape. “Reyna,” pleaded the voice. “Turn around.”

She shook her head. Reyna. Not cara, not gattina, just Reyna. 

“Please. I feel like we need to talk.”

“What is there to talk about?” she uttered through gritted teeth, but still didn't turn around. If she would have, the dam would release all of the stinging tears it held right now.

“I have heard that you have a partner now. I just thought… Well, you could have at least told me!”

“Her? Oh no, she's not my partner. No. Why would you think that?”

She turned around with anger overcoming her. “I have a better question. Why would you give me false hope? Why would you behave like that around me, getting under my skin, only to throw it away with the nearest sibling of sin who lifts their habit to you?” she hissed, canines ready to tear through his neck.

“False hope? Reyna, there was never any hope at all. Don't you get it?” His face contorted into an expression of disgust. “You're a ghoul.”

The way he said the last word felt like her heart shattering into millions of pieces. Reyna could feel them scratching at her chest cavity. She was sure that if she looked down on her shirt, there would be bloodstains there.

“I thought you didn't mind. You never did,” she whispered.

Terzo ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it a little bit. Reyna always liked it that way, but right now, she couldn't even look at him. Not when her heart, no, her whole world was shattering into pieces.

“Reyna, you do not belong. You never did. Not with ghouls and certainly not with people. How could you think for one second that you were fitting to be by Papa’s side?”

There was static ringing in her ears as the dam spilled all of the tears it was holding back. “But… The paint… I don't understand,” she whispered in a broken voice.

“A goodbye. Sort of.” Terzo shrugged his shoulders. It seemed like this wasn't a big deal for him. Of course. He would be Papa in a few days. Being seen in public with a ghoul, even as friends, would be scandalous. It could stain his whole career.

Reyna couldn't look at him anymore. “You don't mean that, Terzo. I know you don't,” she wept.

He lifted her chin with his thumb, but it wasn't that gentle caressing touch she was used to. This was harsh and hurt a bit, as he dug his fingers into her skin. “Yes. I do. Every. Single. Word.”

Reyna’s heart could take it anymore. She turned around and ran, running fast and far. Her lungs burned with tears and lack of oxygen, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart. To the shame. He was right. How could she think there was ever anything between them?

___________________________________________

Five days later, the ministry was buzzing with preparations. Today, the cardinal would become the Papa. Everything needed to be perfect. And it would be, sister Imperator would take care of it.

Reyna didn't go to the ceremony. She fell very sick with some stomach bug and she didn't want anyone to catch it, too. At least that's what she told everyone. But there was one person that knew the truth.

Terzo stepped out to the platform in his papal robes, face still unpainted. His mismatched eyes searched the crowd beneath him, but did not find what they were looking for.

“Cardinal?” uttered sister Imperator through gritted teeth. He didn't even realise she finished with her speech. He cleared his throat and recited the verse he was supposed to, swearing himself to the eternal service of the One bellow. And as two sisters of sin approached him with black and white paint, he closed his eyes and pretended that different fingers were painting his face. 

That night, neither Reyna, nor Terzo slept. They were both thinking.

She had heard he wore the paint she designed. Good. It suited him. He was dangerous.

He had heard she fell ill, but he also knew that was a lie. It pained him, but it was for the best. That way, she was out of Clergy’s watchful eyes. That way, she was safe.

[momentosofmelancholy]

This is my promise to me that I'm finally going to start writing this fic I've been planning... especially now that I no longer feel like I'm dying. It's been living in my head rent free and it either needs to pay up or get out 🥰 (Melancholy Addams, 2022)

[ragequeen94]

Some art for CHAPTER 3 of Inferno.

Ch 2 art

Ill be honest. I love how these boys turned out. Drawing them all casual with no paint was probably the most daunting thing. However…. Every time I draw secondo he looks more and more like my very Italian very bald father. We will not be dissecting that specific issue any further.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Ghost HC - Taking a nap in the Papa's lap while they work

Papa Emeritus x GN! Reader

Summary: Taking a nap in the Papa's lap while they work.

Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship, Lap Sitting, Napping/Sleeping

Characters: Primo, Secondo, Terzo, Copia

Primo

- Very open and used to it, being the eldest of his brothers having experience soothing someone to sleep, especially in his lap. It had been years since then, as his brothers were no longer little.

- Surprised at first, looking up from his work, seeing your tired face welcoming you with open arms, with mixed feelings of love and guilt from working late, leaving you sleepless in a cold bed.

- Wrapping you up in his warm arms, gently patting your back, patiently waiting for sleep to take effect. Once asleep, he returns to work, writing quietly, planting kisses on your head with every page turn.

- Giving a dirty look to anyone who entered his office, sister, papa, or ghoul all get the same treatment, even kicking those who were too loud out. Even with the ones who were lucky to stay, he ignored their stares while forcing them to talk in a whisper.

- Once finished with his work, feeling another pang of guilt having to wake you, choosing to do so with soft kisses while cupping your face whispering sweet Italian nothings.

Primo sighed at the loud noise of his office door being opened, seeing Terzo's head poke in, greeted with the eldest crooked stare. The stare did little to his younger brother, watching as he threw a folder on the desk with a loud smack.

"You haven't changed one bit, brother." Putting down his pen at Terzo's words, giving a harder stare to his brother's smug face. "Did they get a bedtime story too?" he says lastly before rushing out of the office to avoid Primo's protective wrath.

However, as you stirred against his chest, the wrath swiftly dissipated, causing the papa to forget the stack of work before him and embrace you tightly, patiently waiting for sleep to return.

-

Secondo

- Would have to talk him into it or beg, as he always hated when Terzo would fall asleep on his shoulder when they were little, but seeing your tired face, he folds so fast. Spending his evening in the ministry's front room, sat on the long couch next to the stained-glass window, looking over sister's response to his filings.

- Feeling your presence behind the packet of papers, seeing you wrapped in a blanket, begging. With a loud sigh, picking up the stack of papers on his lap, throwing them to the floor.

- Even when cuddling in bed, he sighs, acting slightly annoyed, but secretly loves every minute of your sleeping face lying comfortably on his chest. Placing one hand on your back, caressing lightly while continuing to look over paperwork.

- Wouldn't bother looking at who passed by, sister or papa, but always looked down at you when Siblings of Sin walked by, whispering amongst each other about the sight. The reputation of Secondo was one of many rumors, yet here you were sparking new ones.

- Fails to even finish his work, being so comfortable, papers still in hand as he nods off. Waking up from his snores, leaving you with the job of putting the papa to bed.

Waking to the loud rumble of snores, sitting up in the papa's lap, seeing the melted sleeping face of Secondo. Holding back a laugh as his mouth hung agape, looking around, spotting the papers that were loosely clutching in his hand.

Removing the files from his hand to the other side of the couch before thinking of how to wake him. Cupping the papa's face lightly, only getting to plant a single kiss before quickly waking up, smiling at his confused state. Moving off Secondo's lap, slowly getting used to standing, taking his hand and pulling up, holding back a joke about his old bones.

-

Terzo

- Does not understand when first being asked, assuming you mean something else that involves his lap. Only once you climb onto his lap and cuddle up does he understand with a small "Oh." Though it is somewhat new to him, only having your past nights together will give him an idea.

- Having stayed in the ministry's library for the whole morning ordered by sister to reread the teachings, so when you appear, he's so happy, kicking the book aside.

- A bit disappointed you didn't take him away from all the work, but nonetheless, he holds you close. Wrapping his arms around you while holding the book up against your back, resting against his chest, having a racing heartbeat to fall asleep to.

- Sitting in the back corner of the library, liking for people to have the thrill of finding him, just to tease them when they do. So only his ghouls ever came across the sight, but they cared very little about their papa's antics.

- Lasting only thirty minutes before putting down the book, turning his attention to you. Lovingly admiring your sleeping face, tempted to shower you with kisses, though holding back, not wanting to wake you even if it meant spending the night sitting in the quiet library.

Gently, Terzo's hand glided up and down your back, feeling the soft fabric that covered it, using both arms to hold you close and safe, not caring for the book of teachings.

Being ready to take sister's scolding later, her words pushed out of his mind in place of you. Looking softly with his two-toned eyes at your smushed face that lay against his chest. Imagining you heard every breath and race of his heart from your presence alone, carefully placing a kiss atop your head, causing a stir of movement, quickly the papa held his breath, fearing he'd woken you.

-

Copia

- Agrees shyly to the ask, a bit overwhelmed, feeling you on his lap, making it harder to concentrate. In the past, having many cuddle parties with the rats and him, but this was very different, being so closely intimate with no moves to escalation.

- Interrupting his work of looking over the new tour dates, sat on the living room couch late in the evening. Thinking it was time for dinner when you came to him only stopping from getting up when you asked.

- Confusingly agrees, only realizing what he agreed to when you sit down, hesitantly taking you in his arms, struggling a bit to go back to reading. When used to the loving action, he rests his head atop yours, tempted to fall asleep himself.

- A bit embarrassed if someone came across the sight, wanting to move in his seat, but warned not to by your stirs. After a few times getting used to being seen in such a tender position, even by sister, he still squirms a bit, but her smile reassures him.

- In the end, when sister comes in to call you both for dinner, she withdraws after seeing not wanting to interrupt, instead having one of his ghouls bring up some plates to your shared room.

Slipping out of the cold bed, sleepily waddling out of the bedroom into the living room, met the sight of Copia nose-deep in tour dates.

"Cardi," your voice turns his attention, slowly putting down the stapled papers with eyes that soften at the sight of you. "Can I take a nap with you?" quickly, nodding to your question, climbing onto his lap, lying against his chest.

Tangling up his limbs with yours, then planting a kiss on your cheek before finding a way to go back to reading smiling at the sound of your snores.

Lightly patting your back while reading along the lines, not hearing sister's heels echoing down the hall. Spooked by the sound of a knock and the front door opening, sister's head in the opening before quickly retreating, seeing the sight of you two.

-

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @littlebitchsposts @urlocalfanficwriter

[da-rulah]

In Cold Blood - Terzo x f!reader

Summary: Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with.

After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home.

Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Word Count: 19.6k (i'm back bitchesssss)

Warnings: Dark fiction, horror fic, mentions of murder, coercion, manipulation, obsession, masturbation (f), voyeurism, manhandling, threat and mild violence, dubious consent (later turns to verbal consent), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, blood, blood drinking, unprotected sex

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Leave a tip

WARNING: This is a work of DARK FICTION. It is a horror fic, and contains mentions of violence as well as elements of dubious consent and manipulation. Please do not read if this is going to affect you negatively. You have been warned, and I take no responsibility if you choose to ignore the warnings and triggers attached.

a/n: well hello there. It's been a while, hm? Radio silence and then BOOM, a 20k word fic outta nowhere? Well, this was written for the wonderful @angellayercake's birthday, and she's been so kind as to give her permission for me to share it. I promise, more new content coming soon, and I'll be working on an update for The Mayor's Daughter ASAP! Happy reading, creeps...

“What’s the catch?”

The real estate agent blinked at you in confusion, as if you’d just asked her to recite the square route of pi to the 30th decimal.

“The… the catch?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s just so cheap, I have to wonder which closet the skeletons are hiding in…” you joked, knowing full well the skeletons were actually in the backyard under the headstones that sat growing moss and ivy for the last six decades at least.

“Ma’am… I’ve been very upfront about the state of the house. It needs extensive repairs and renovation, it has a graveyard out back, it’s way out in the sticks and the landscaping is overrun… What more could be wrong with it?” She rang out her hands nervously, chewing on her cherry red lips as you scrutinised her body language. You’re sure there was something she wasn’t telling you, but this was a perfect opportunity for you…

Coming off the back of a decent chunk of inheritance left by a relative you’d long-since forgotten, you needed a project. You’d always wanted to renovate a beautifully gothic home from the 19th century, and when you saw the listing for exactly that on the edge of a small town? Ideal. Perfect. Exactly what you wanted. The thought of being a little out in the country, surrounded by land and away from the bustle of the city you grew up in was all too appealing.

“It has a charm to it, don’t you think?” you smiled to yourself, fiddling with the dusty net curtains still hanging in the living room’s huge bay window.

“Uh… sure, yeah,” the agent agreed with reluctance, still so confused as to why you would be at all interested in this ruin that she couldn’t even show you all of due to the structural integrity of the floorboards.

“I’d like to put in an offer,” you told her, turning back to face her with a smile on your face.

“You… really? Oh, my god! Okay, great! Well, I’ll get the paperwork…” she sprung into action, suddenly full of an energy that could only have been triggered by the whiff of her future commission.

It would take some work, sure, but this place had the potential to be the perfect project and future home for you…

It took six months, but the structural integrity of the house had been stabilised by a team of builders you’d hired to take care of the place while you got your affairs in order and ready to move halfway across the country. You weren’t taking much; a lot of the furniture left in the abandoned house was part of the project and with a little restoration would be absolutely beautiful. You were ready for the work, ready to create a home that you could be so proud of and had your stamp on it.

Moving into the house was quicker than you thought it would be, with most of your furniture sold and donated. For now, you had to live out of suitcases until you had a bedroom and closet space that was clean enough to hang your things in.

At the very least, you’d cleaned and stripped the four-poster bed that still lay in the master suite, checking the integrity of the bed itself and noting how… pristine it seemed compared to a lot of the other furniture left behind. But this was made of expensive, dark mahogany wood – it was built to last, and so with a polish, a new mattress and sheets? You had a gorgeous bed to sleep in each night, taking a little bit of pressure off when you’d spent an entire day exhausting yourself over more renovations.

One of your first jobs had been landscaping in the graveyard. You’d felt pulled to the graves, wanting to give whoever was buried on your property a much more respectful resting place, rather than allowing them to be swamped by ivy and moss.

It seemed to be a family plot, probably the last family to have owned the home. Every stone had the same surname, dating back to the first of the deaths in 1904. What struck you as odd, however, was the nature of the stones themselves…

For the time period, you might have expected angels, cherubs, perhaps a cross or two. But whilst these stones were ornate and beautiful, they were not steeped in biblical references at all. Instead, the eldest stone had a decaying gargoyle sat atop it… Another, a ram’s head at the base. One had a stone skeleton laying above where the body would have been buried, carved into a slab of concrete as if it was protruding from the grave itself. You’d never seen graves like this before, symbols and carvings you couldn’t identify but had you on edge the minute you looked at them. But one of those symbols, you certainly recognised.

A pentagram.

Now, as a purveyor of the dark and mysterious, you hadn’t minded the thought of a graveyard in your garden. For goodness sake, you loved the gothic aesthetic, the dark and macabre had always called out to you. But to find these graves had a theme to them, a darker, occult theme… It cast a deeper shadow over the home you’d purchased.

Who were this family? Were they part of an occult? You were itching to understand the history, to uncover more about the lost family that let their home fall to ruin and their graves be overrun by nature.

But it had to wait, the renovations taking over to make your house a far more liveable abode. With the graves at least clear from nature’s extremities, you could come back to them another time to give them a proper clean, to uncover the names in full and potentially use the information to gather more with a trip to the local library or a google search.

For now, you had to get to cleaning room by room so you could begin stripping and re-decorating where it needed it most.

“…The Sheriff’s office have released a statement today to calm locals calling for more action in the string of disappearances throughout town. Last Monday saw the latest in the line of disappearances, 29 year old store clerk, Andrew Walton, taking the total up to 12 missing in the last nine months. Mr Walton was last seen on CCTV heading into the alley of the 7/11 where he worked…”

The radio news bulletin caught your attention as you were working in the master bedroom, stripping the already peeling wallpaper from the panelled walls atop a stepladder. You’d only moved in three weeks ago, and yet, the little radio you always put on to work to kept churning out the same story consistently – the string of disappearances in town that seemed to be getting more and more frequent.  

It would seem it was the town with skeletons in the closet, not your precious new home. The estate agent failed to mention that one…

When you first heard about it, you’d made sure the house was secure, with locks on the windows, every entrance bolted and sturdy. Being so far outside of town, you weren’t particularly worried since you rarely ventured from your home, particularly not at night when most of these disappearances seemed to have taken place. But it didn’t hurt to be safe...

Still, the thought that there may be someone out there snatching people for God only knows what purpose was a little unsettling. You could only hope the sheriff would do his job and catch whoever was behind the crimes soon – but it had already been nine months… All you could do was lay low, stay as far away from the potential risks of heading into town alone in the dark.

As the lunchtime bulletin ended, the radio began to play one of the top 40 songs you’d heard at least three times already today. Whilst it was repetitive, you’d learned the words, and found yourself singing along as you scraped at patches of wallpaper residue with your little scraping tool. You lost yourself to easily in the renovation tasks, the monotony allowing for your brain to whisk you away to distant worlds, like shooting your own music videos to the songs as you sang along.

Drifting so far off into your own thoughts is probably the reason you hadn’t realised the radio had actually cut out completely, and it was just you singing and the sound of the metal scraper to fill the silence… The batteries had died.

“Ah, shit…” you mumbled to yourself, stepping off the ladder and reaching for the radio you’d placed on the window sill. Upon closer inspection, you made the definite conclusion that it was in fact the batteries, and sighed in annoyance. Of all the things you didn’t think you’d need for a while at least, you would now have to rummage around in the unemptied moving boxes that were still stockpiled in the dining room, filled with ‘random crap’ from your ‘random crap’ drawers – the drawers every home has… You just hadn’t renovated enough of the kitchen to have a ‘random crap’ drawer yet.

Digging through the boxes, you pulled a tape measure, a pack of four highlighters with two missing, six bank statements dated four years ago and a set of tiny little wrenches from the collection, until finally, you found a pack of unopened batteries at the bottom of the box.

You fumbled with them, rushing to get them out and replace the dead ones in the radio so you could get your music back and get back to work. Just as you pushed the second battery in, the radio roared to life again, startling you with a sudden gasp. Your heart raced in your chest as you chuckled at yourself, laughing at how stupid you’d been to have forgotten to turn it off before you pushed the new batteries in.

But a sudden and much more frightening crash from beneath you had you jumping again within seconds, your grip on the radio faltering as it flew to the ground, the new batteries flying out at the impact and drenching the room in silence again.

Your head flew immediately to the old door to your left, the one that led beneath the house to the basement…

You don’t know how long you stared at it, your heart rate never calming down as your mind raced with scenarios. An animal? Old house falling apart? Ghost? Psycho killer from town? You had no idea what to think.

But you lived alone. No noise should be coming from down in the damn basement.

You stared for so long, you began to question if you’d heard anything at all. Perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you. But with a mental kick up the arse and a quick shake of the head to rid yourself of the fear, you marched over to the door to investigate like every stupid final girl in every horror movie you’d ever seen.

When you pulled on the string light, it buzzed and flickered before settling on a barely-there orange glow. Thankfully, it didn’t matter so much, the small windows in the house’s foundations letting in just enough light to deem the room visible. You could smell the must as you stepped down the wooden stairs, creaking under your feet as if some obnoxious special effects guy was dubbing the scene.

The movers had moved some of the restorable furniture you’d asked them to keep down here, stacking it in a far corner for you to come back to when you’d sorted the main structure and décor of the house. They were caked in a thick layer of dust, fingerprints from the movers clearly visible.

But nothing looked like it had fallen, there wasn’t anything broken or toppled over on the floor at all. The bang you’d heard had no source, that you could see. Even the cellar doors that led to the yard out back were still chained and bolted shut – you couldn’t blame it on a gust of wind, and upon first inspection, there was no sign of an animal somehow making its way inside either.

But to be sure, you walked through the clear space in the centre of the basement and over to the furniture pile of display cabinets, side tables, some chairs and a wardrobe you’d had moved from the master bedroom. It was one of your favourite pieces, that wardrobe. You planned to only clean it up and revarnish it, matching the ornate wood of the bed that had been kept pristine and you now used as your own. Even the mirrors on the door – oval shaped with dark ivy carved into the edges – were in fantastic condition. No scratches, just caked in a layer of dust like the rest.

A closer look proved there were no animals in the basement, no rodents or critters to try and ferry back outside. But what you did notice were the fingerprints on the brass handles of the wardrobe. Perhaps the movers had peaked inside – you hadn’t when you viewed the place. Maybe there were some old clothes still left behind from another decade?

Curiosity got the best of you, and you opened the door with a shriek of its hinges to find… nothing. The wardrobe was empty save for a few wire hangers that jingled with the opening of the door, and another layer of dust, albeit thinner, on the low shelf inside. But the dust was disturbed…

In the centre, there was a rectangle in the dust, as if it had been carefully wiped clean with absolute precision… It was about the size of a shoe box, but the dark grain of the wood stood out around the greyed and dulled wood surrounding it. Something had been in there for years, and had been removed…

Instantly, you blamed the movers. They’d gone nosing around and taken something they thought was valuable? Oh hell no. It got your back up immediately… You’d trusted these people, and they’d stolen from you? They’d be getting a phone call later.

Now pissed, you shut the door to the wardrobe a little harder than perhaps you should, the bang that sounded ricocheting off the stone walls of the basement.

That sounded like what you’d heard from upstairs.

You brushed it off, thinking nothing of it and instead looking up into the oval mirror of the door to check you’d left no damage to it.

But then you saw him. A man, in the dusty reflection standing in the far corner, the darkest spot of the basement. You could only see an outline, a silhouette. But one of his eyes seemed to gleam brighter than the other, the light perhaps hitting it just right. He was glaring at you, watching you intently in the dull reflection…

You shrieked, spinning in your place and slamming your back into the wardrobe behind you. Your chest heaved in panic, heart racing and breaths coming short and fast while your eyes searched the dimly lit corner and found nothing.

There was no man stood in the corner, nothing at all in fact. You were completely alone, your mind playing havoc on you in your heightened state of anxiety and anger. Even now, your heart was still hammering away, your lungs just beginning to regulate your breathing.

You straightened yourself up and wiped at your clothes that collected dust from the wardrobe when you’d slammed into it.

“Dumbass,” you mumbled to yourself, heading back upstairs quickly and slamming the basement door. You tried your best to shake off the anxiety, putting your batteries back into your radio and rushing back to the master bedroom to continue with the wallpaper scraping in the hopes it might put your mind back at ease. But for the rest of the day, you felt an anxiety you couldn’t shift, as if there truly was a man in the corner of every room you entered, glaring at you from the shadows.

It took a few days to get all the paper and residue off the walls in the master bedroom, careful not to mess with the panelling you wanted to sand down and keep as part of the décor. But for now, you could finally get onto stripping the paper in one of the other bedrooms, hoping to strip all of the paper from the upstairs in one go before getting around to sanding and replacing any panelling so you wouldn’t be spreading the dust into rooms you’d already finished and cleaned. There was method in your madness – strip everything down, sand, then clean.

The next biggest room upstairs had no furniture in it and was in the worst state, having been the room with the most extensive damage to the flooring and structural integrity. Builders had to replace the entire floor, and so had removed everything to do so. Apparently a leak in the roof – now fixed, of course – had caused irreparable water damage to the far corner, where they’d also removed the mouldy panelling and cleaned the remaining black mould properly and safely.

But now the rest of the room needed its paper stripped, so that’s where you found yourself. Your little radio blared the same station as always as you scraped away at the paper, making your way along the walls. It came off easier than the master bedroom, the damp of the room helping to already ease the adhesive from the plaster beneath.

As you moved to a section of the wall near the window, placing the stepladder on the floorboard, you heard one rattle beneath it. Having had the entire floor replaced, you’d assumed that every floorboard would be secured down. Perhaps the builders had missed one, but a few nails and you could fix that. So you moved the stepladder out of the way and crouched to inspect the plank that wobbled.

It had the holes in it where the nails should have been, and yet, there were no nails to hold it down… It was as if it had been secured and then pulled up again, except you couldn’t figure out why.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you pushed on one end of it to lift it from the structured beams beneath it. It opened up to a crawl space filled with fresh insulation and piping beneath the room. But when you pulled out your phone to flick on the flashlight, you noticed a rather out of place looking jewellery box had been hidden just to one side of the loose floorboard.

Instinct overruled you and you reached for it, pulling it from under the floorboard and wiping the dust from the top of it. It was a beautiful jewellery box, made of dark wood with an intricate baroque pattern carved into it and filled with some kind of gold resin. It had no lock on it, only a hook to keep its lid closed.

It made no sense to you… Why would this be under the floorboards when the floor was so new? Where had it come from? Should you open it?

And then your brain connected the dots. This box was the same shape, and a similar size to the disturbed dust inside the wardrobe in the basement. This had come from the wardrobe…

Logically, you concocted a story that maybe one of the builders had found it and wanted to hide it, come back for it later but forgot. But if they knew it was of value, surely they wouldn’t have forgotten it? And that patch in the wardrobe seemed too fresh, too pristine… Still, you had no other logical answer. You refused to believe it had magically found its way up from the basement and under the floorboards by itself – or even more horrifyingly, at the hands of someone else.

But you had to open it, right? You had to see what was inside, to see why someone would want to hide such a pretty little box at all. So you flicked the hook open, and slowly opened up the jewellery box…

You’d have to say you were disappointed. There were things in here, but nothing that screamed value at you, more like cheap and random items. There were some cuff links that you thought may have been silver, but were only sterling silver; a costume jewellery bracelet made of plastic pearls; a lipstick, worn down to within an inch of its life in a deep red shade; various little knick-knacks that together made absolutely no sense at all. The only thing that stood out to you as remotely unusual, was a watch.

This watch looked ordinary, something you’d pick up for cheap. It was broken, the glass cracked and the time clearly not moving on from 11:06 on the day it broke. It wasn’t branded, the clock face not diamond-incrusted or made of any real precious materials. But just under where the hands connected in the centre was a tiny little rotating set of numbers for a date, reading as 19/03/24 – just over a week ago. The watch had stopped working just over a week ago.

You couldn’t entertain this idea any longer. You stuffed the watch back into the box, slamming the lid closed and putting it back under the floorboards in the hope it might poof itself out of existence. You had to be imagining things, this wasn’t real. First, hearing noises down in the basement. Then, seeing the reflection of a man in the wardrobe mirror, only for him to disappear when you turned around. Now, finding a box of trinkets in the floorboards with items that were completely out of place for the time period of the old house.

You were being ridiculous, making up things that didn’t exist and had no significance at all. This must have been left by a builder, the battery being the reason it stopped, not the crack in the glass. There was just no way. No one had been by the house since you moved in besides the postman, and even he had quickly stuffed the mail into the mailbox at the end of your drive and run off quickly every time you caught him.

A creak in the floorboards in the hallway snapped you from your racing conspiracies, igniting your fight or flight response much like the noise in the basement the other day. This time you didn’t freeze, you stood up quickly and ran to the doorway to see if you could catch whatever was making the noise.

There he was again.

The same silhouette, a man stood in the hallway, backlit from the large window behind him and the sun streaming in through it. You couldn’t see his face properly, left in shadow but you could see those same eyes, glaring at you, watching to see if you would make a move…

Anger flared inside you, thinking you had an intruder in your home. You weren’t one to back down from a fight or go quietly. If this man was skulking around your house in broad fucking daylight, you were going to confront him.

“HEY! Who the fuck are you?!” you yelled from the doorway, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

The silhouette said nothing, instead stepping to the right through the door to your master bedroom. Without a second thought you ran towards the open doorway, grabbing the scraper from the floor where you’d set it down earlier as some kind of precautionary weapon.

“I said, get out of my-“ you stopped, frozen in fear. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, confusion replacing the rage inside you.

Nothing.

There was nobody in here. And you made damn sure to check… No one behind the door, no one in the en-suite, no one under the bed… No one.

You were losing your mind. You had to be. Perhaps you had spent too long alone in this old house, maybe you needed to socialise, head into town and meet some real people instead of chasing shadows. This wasn’t healthy, all this obsessive renovation work. This was your brain telling you you needed a break, right? It had to be that, because you could come up with no sound, logical explanation as to why you were seeing a shadow man roaming around your house other than madness. None of this was really happening, this was simply a descent into insanity caused by too much isolation.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to quiet the pounding heartbeat in your ears as the fear crept its way inside, burrowing deeper with every strange happening you seemed to experience.

A day off was all you’d needed, time out of the house to escape the need to be working, to essentially touch some grass and speak to another actual human being besides the shadow you’d conjured in your head. You’d gone into town, done some shopping, sat in a local coffee shop… You’d met a lovely older woman in there – Amelie, a widow and life-long resident – who’d welcomed you to town, so excited to have a fresh and pretty face to say hello to.

Although, she had warned you to head home before the sun set… That you should never walk alone in the evenings, and should lock your doors and windows at night.

“He likes the younger ones,” she’d told you. “I’m no good, you see… He likes them young.”

That had chilled you to the bone… Perhaps the mad ramblings of a woman hitting senility, but already on edge after the last few days at home, it seemed to strike a nerve. But nothing could have prepared you for the look on her face when she’d asked her where in town you had moved into, and you divulged it was the old farmhouse on the outskirts.

Her cheeks had sagged, smile dropping instantly. She shifted in the chair she’d taken at your table, straightening out the skirt of her dress over her knees and avoiding eye contact. And then she clutched her necklace in her fist – a gold crucifix – as she reached to take yours in her other hand.

“You must protect yourself, yes? That house… Something is there. You must be careful,” she told you, her voice as stern as she could make it to hide the tremble of fear.

“I-I’m okay, really… It just looks old, it’s overgrown and falling apart but I’m working on-“

“No!” she yelled, turning the heads of other patrons in the coffee shop. Her grip on your hand squeezed tighter, her nails digging into your hand painfully. “You should leave, before it’s too late. Such a pretty young thing, you shouldn’t be there…”

You pried her bony, arthritic fingers from around your hand and gently held hers in both of yours.

“I’m okay, Amelie. Please, don’t worry…” you comforted her, but she seemed dissatisfied, her eyes wide as she conceded.

That entire interaction had sat with you for the rest of the day as you’d wandered through the local farmer’s market, picking up fresh vegetables to turn into a casserole for one tonight. It shouldn’t have unnerved you the way it did, such an elderly woman was clearly suffering the effects of an ageing mind and yet, with the experiences of the last few days? Her warning unnerved you.

You headed home long before sunset, and locked the doors and windows like she’d told you to. Did it make you feel any better? Absolutely not… But as you pottered around in the kitchen making the casserole you’d planned, slowly the anxiety started to ease, helped mostly by the music on your little radio.

You ate in peace, scrolling through your phone while you tapped your foot on the tiled floor of the kitchen. You didn’t mind these lonely evenings so much, having grown tired of the bustling city long ago. These days, the quiet of your own company was quite welcome, easily sinking into your own little world.

Even as you stood at the sink, scrubbing at the dishes, you were in your own world, humming along to another overplayed song you’d heard time and time again. You’d find yourself staring out the window in front of you at the sunset, the sky painted pinks and oranges and casting a tranquil glow over the little graveyard out back. Dusk was quickly approaching, the night drawing in as you cleaned.

Just as you placed your plate on the drying rack beside you, you looked out again at the graves, now like silhouettes as the sky turned to a deeper shade of bluey purple. But your heart dropped, every hair on your body standing on end.

The shadow figure. The same shadow figure… Stood out by the graves, looking down at them with its back to you. He seemed to be wearing the same thing as last time you spotted him; slacks, a black coat made of heavy wool that just passed his knees. He was just standing, staring…

You froze in place, watching… You felt paralysed, like you’d spotted a large spider on the wall, staring at it to make sure it didn’t move out of sight because losing it was worse than staring in fear.

It didn’t move, just standing there, staring down.

A rush of anger hit you out of nowhere – this fucker was trespassing on your property, scaring you stupid. You’d locked this prick out when you’d come home, and so he thought it was okay to skulk around your land, trying to frighten you?

Fuck that. No. Enough of this.

You wiped your hands on the dish towel to the side, instinctively reaching for the biggest knife in your knife block on the counter before running to the back door. You unbolted the top and bottom, and ran out into the evening with a surge of adrenaline.

“HEY!” you yelled, like you had when you’d seen him in your hallway, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The figure didn’t move, still staring down as you approached quickly from behind. You stayed back a few feet, clutching the knife in your hand and ready to use it should this fucker try anything…

“Answer me…” your voice shook with fear, no matter how hard you tried to keep it steady and strong. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing on my land?”

A dark chuckle… The shoulders of the figure shook with his laugh, and it only pissed you off more.

“Your land? Interesting…” the figure muttered, his voice thick with a heavy Italian accent and gruff like he hadn’t spoken aloud in decades.

“I-I’ll call the cops…” you threatened, “just leave and no one gets hurt.”

His head cocked up at that, turning to look over his shoulder. For the first time, you got a small glimpse at his face, and the eye that gleamed brighter than it should. He seemed to be smirking, as if this situation was somehow funny to him.

“You would hurt me, cara mio?” he teased, his eyes flitting down to the knife you held extended towards him. “I did not have you pegged for a violent woman.”

It caught you off guard, the way he spoke to you. Was he trying to belittle you? Make you question your own self-defense to weaken you? You wouldn’t let that happen.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him defiantly, ignoring his comments and still wielding the knife.

“Paying my respects,” he grumbled, as if he were annoyed by an intrusive question.

“Th-this is my property, and you need to leave. I’ve seen you in my house, and you need to go before I call the cops,” you repeated yourself, your voice shaking.

“Why did you buy this house?” he asked, frustratingly ignoring your warnings.

“None of your business-“

“It is my business,” he snapped, “This house belonged to my family,” he span on the spot, finally facing you. His expression was intimidating, his eyes – now visibly different colours – were boring into you, just begging you to try something. “These are their graves. This is their house. It does not, and will never, belong to you.”

“Well you might want to tell the bank that, Mr, uh…” his name escaped you, forgetting the surname that you’d uncovered weeks ago on the graves behind him.

“Emeritus,” he smiled sadistically. “Terzo Emeritus, and this house is mine.”

He took a step closer to you, and naturally you stepped back in fear. The grip on the knife readjusted with the second step he took, readying yourself to use it should you need to.

“But a pretty thing like you? I’m willing to share…”

“Don’t make another move…” you jabbed the knife forward a little, raising your voice in an attempt to appear threatening. “I know there’s some creep going around town, snatching people… And now you’re here, in MY house, threatening me?”

“I think I’m the one being threatened, cara mio…”

“SHUT UP!” you yelled. “Leave, now. Or I will call the fucking police.”

His hands, encased in leather gloves, shot up in a defensive pose, his smile widening sickeningly. He stopped approaching, but his morbidly beautiful eyes slowly scanned you from head to toe, taking you in, analysing. For a moment, you were locked in a stalemate, staring each other down. You thought maybe he was sizing you up, waiting for the opportune moment to strike like a predator hunting its prey.   

But instead of pouncing like you’d expected, he turned back around and knelt down before the graves.

“Penso che forse lei non è così affezionato a me come io sono di lei, non siete d'accordo? (I think maybe she is not as fond of me as I am of her, don’t you agree?)” he mumbled, as if the dead could hear every word. “Non temere, non lascerò che questa bellezza mi scaccia, i miei fratelli. Questa è casa nostra e imparerà a godere della mia compagnia. (Fear not, I will not let this beauty drive me away, my brothers. This is our house, and she will learn to enjoy my company.)”

“W-what did you say?” you stuttered, still wielding the knife. He looked briefly over his shoulder at you.

“Non vedevo tanta bellezza da più di un secolo, (I haven’t seen such beauty in over a century,)” he spoke to the graves again. “Non dal mio esilio e ritorno. (not since my exile and return.)”

You were growing more and more frustrated as he spoke his mother tongue to thin air, waiting for him to do something – even if that something were to force you to defend yourself. This was just… bizarre.

He stood again, kissing the tips of his gloves and pressing them to each headstone, save for one on the end. Why he missed that one, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. He seemed to be saying a goodbye, as if he were actually going to leave upon your request.

“Until next time, bella cosa (pretty thing),” he bowed his head a little and began to walk towards you, giving you a wide berth but keeping his eyes trained on you at all times. You figured he was simply making sure you didn’t try to stab him as he passed, walking himself out of the gates of your land and a little ways down the street before he turned back to you, and blew you a slow, calculated flying kiss.

As he continued to walk away down the lane that stretched towards town, you quickly glanced back at the graves, noting now that the names did indeed all share a common family name.

Primo Emeritus. Secondo Emeritus. Copia Emeritus. Terzo Emeritus.

Your eyes widened. You were sure that was the name he just told you belonged to him? That wasn’t possible… Such an unusual name, and he’d made no mention of being a ‘Terzo Junior’, or ‘Terzo the second’. And it was the only grave he didn’t plant his kiss to…

You span around in the grass beneath your feet, looking out down the lane you’d just seen him walking down and yet, he was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t in the fields that lined the lane into town, and the road stretched with no bends for at least two miles, no obstructions at all. You should be able to still see him walking, running even if he had chosen to. He hadn’t had time to vanish like he had, in mere seconds.

Your head whipped back to the grave – his grave? – before you shook your head of the nonsense that he might well be some kind of spirit who can appear or disappear in the blink of an eye. These ‘occurrences’ were nothing more than fuel for a spooky story around a campfire. None of this was true, you’d just… lost sight of him, or misjudged the view of the road. Something, anything, had to explain this away.

But it didn’t stop you from bolting back through the garden and into the kitchen, slamming the door behind you with the knife still in hand and bolting the door shut, heart thumping in your ears.

You slept with that knife under your mattress that night.

His face haunted you, both day and night. No matter what you did, or how you tried to refocus your mind, to fixate on only your renovations, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. In the few days since the incident by the graves, you were questioning your sanity more than ever.

Had that even been real? Was he real? He couldn’t possibly be… The way he disappeared in an instant every time you saw him led you only to the conclusion that you’d lost your mind, officially. You must have concocted this spectre after seeing his name on the grave when you’d cleared the landscaping around them. You told yourself that over and over again.

That became harder to do though, when you’d spot him out by the graves again not even a week after the first time. You’d been installing some small curtains to the window by the kitchen sink for you to hide the site from view when you’d spooked yourself at the mere thought of that night, and yet there he was again.

You stared in shock, frozen and motionless, as he turned his head towards the house, looking it up and down, before his gaze settled on you in the window. He raised his hand, but before he could gesture a wave at you, you shut the new curtains and obscured his view, darting out of the kitchen and hiding in the dining room still full of packed boxes.

Your heart pounded as it always did when your imagination ran away with you and spooked you like this. You shook your head, told yourself to snap the fuck out of it.

But then you saw him every evening.

Always by the graves, always turning to wave at you, no matter from which window you were watching him from. You did your best to hide, to ignore it and tell yourself he wasn’t real. You just had to keep going, to continue your work and maybe find a good psychologist in town one of these days.

This plan of wilful ignorance was barely working, but what else could you do? Giving this apparition any kind of attention would surely only make it worse, whether he was a figment of your imagination or a genuine ghost from the past.

Ignoring him was hard. There was such a large part of you that wanted more information about him, to learn where he’d come from, why he haunted you. He was intriguing, if terrifying. The face that followed your dreams, both day and night, was starting to become all too familiar, all too comfortable. If it weren’t for that ghostly white eye of his, he’d have quite a charming face. His glare wouldn’t seem so dark if it wasn’t pierced by the white glow, and perhaps he wouldn’t be so threatening… Home invasion and grave haunting aside.

Still, you did your best to continue as normal. The renovations continued, and before long you had stripped every room upstairs of the aged and withered wallpaper that desperately needed replacing. Finally, you could start decorating to your own tastes – starting with your bedroom.

After a trip to the nearest hardware store, and a delivery of wooden slats, you got busy creating the wainscoting that was to run along the bottom three feet of the wall in your bedroom. The idea was to panel it, and then paint everything a beautiful deep shade of royal purple. The hardwood floor was going to be stained a dark shade throughout the entire upstairs, but you’d managed to source a stunning Persian rug in a purple that matched the aesthetic you were hoping for. The furniture – the items you’d had moved to the basement – were already perfect for the room, matching the bed that had also been left behind. You’d chosen gold metal accents to replace the handles on the wardrobe and chest of drawers, and sourced lamps and trinkets in the same gold to match.

After no longer than a week, you’d completed the room with a mix and match of modern and Victorian gothic aesthetics. Frankly, it looked like a Pinterest board – but it was so inherently you.

When you’d laid the finishing touches to the room, you stood in the middle of it, proudly looking around with a wide grin on your face at the beautifully finished space. That estate agent couldn’t see the potential of this house, but you had the second you stepped foot inside. And whilst it was only one room, the rest of the house still just the bare skeletal bones of a home, this was a huge victory.

“I like what you’ve done with my bedroom, bella cosa (pretty thing).”

Your body stiffened at the sound of his voice, coming from the doorway behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head and willing for the nightmare to stop. You hadn’t heard him, you were imagining it. You had to be.

Except, you heard footsteps behind you, on the hardwood floors. His shoes clacked with every step, slow and deliberate as if he was taking in his surrounding, inspecting your work. When you braved opening your eyes, that’s exactly what he was doing.

He really was here.

“Grazie for keeping my furniture, cara mio. I was always fond of it, and you’ve given it new life,” he said, ogling the wardrobe as he dragged his gloved fingertips along the edge of the wood.

“And purple, too…” he span on his heels to face you, a warm smile crossing his dark features, “My favourite colour.”

“How did you get in here?” you asked, voice shaking as you watched him look around the room.

“I told you, cara, this was my house. I know every entrance and exit there is,” his mismatched eyes settled on you again, “even the ones you don’t.”

He was lying. There were only three ways in or out of the house, and they were all locked – bolted, latched, even the cellar doors in the basement were chained shut.

“This is not your house,” you argued, spitting the words through grit teeth. “You need to leave. I will call the police.”

His eyes darkened again, a veil of threat overcoming him.

“And I told you, this has always been my house.”

You weighed your options. Your phone was on the kitchen counter downstairs; if you were fast enough, you could run down to it and out the back door before he caught you, calling the police as you ran along the road into town. If you didn’t fuck it up, you could even lock him in, taking the key from the back door and locking it shut behind you, leaving him gift wrapped for the cops.

You just had to be quick.

And you tried, you really did. You bolted out of the bedroom, running down the length of the long hall towards the top of the stairs. You hadn’t heard him behind you, his shoes making no noise behind you and so you imagined he’d been left stunned by your sudden departure, giving you a head start.

So you hadn’t expected a pair of large, strong hands to grip you by the tops of your arms at the top of the stairs, and slam your body into the wall. A sharp pain radiated up through your spine, but you cried out in fear more so than pain when you realised he’d trapped you, palms flat against the wall by your head and arms encasing you.

Instinct had you closing your eyes, squeezing them shut and waiting for the next blow, or for this nightmare to end. You could feel a cool breeze against your cheek as you turned your head away from the man trapping you, as if his breath were ice cold.

“Look at me, cara mio,” he ordered, his voice deep and slow. You whimpered beneath him, trying to plant yourself flat against the wall to get as far away from him as possible. “Per favore, I want to see you.”

You wanted to deny him, but his silence said he’d wait for an eternity until you did. And you didn’t want to find out just how aggressive he could be, if given the chance. So slowly, you opened your eyes, looking at him through your peripheral vision before you turned your head ever so slightly.

His face was so close to yours, hovering above you. His eyes flickered across your features, like he was looking for something, or maybe mapping every feature and committing it to his memory for some nefarious reason.

This close to him, you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same… You avoided his eyes, noting instead how his skin seemed pale for an Italian man, but soft and smooth without a single imperfection. His jawline was chiselled, like you’d cut your palm if you tried to slap him. He had frown lines in his forehead that came with a life of frustration, yet forked lines from the outer corners of his eyes that came with a life of happiness; neither made him look haggard, yet showed he wasn’t quite as youthful as you.

Despite his pale complexion, his lips remained a soft pink. They were full, parted as you both silently examined each other up close. That breeze you felt was most definitely his breath, which you’d expected to be warmer but given the situation, perhaps it was your fear adding to the chill.

Running out of features to scan, you landed on his eyes; the eyes that haunted you more than any you’d seen. At first glance, the colour mismatch was disconcerting. It would put anybody on edge, perhaps make them wonder if he’d fallen victim to some kind of accident or birth defect but the more you stared, the more you fell into them. You couldn’t place why, but they seemed older than the rest of his features, holding more wisdom than you might have expected.

“Are you real?” you asked him, logic and reason battling against the very real fear that you were imagining him, that he was some kind of spirit that haunted his family home you’d never be rid of. But you’d felt him. His hands had been the ones to throw you against this wall, his body was imposing on yours as he trapped you. He was solid, flesh and blood. But there was an innate and visceral fear that something was wrong.

At your question, his eyes met yours, and his lips quirked into a playful smile.

“I am very real, cara mio,” he assured, taking his hand from beside your head and wrapping his gloved fingers around your wrist. He lifted your palm, gently laying it flat against his chest. “Can you not feel me?”

You could. He was solid, like you’d now discovered and you could feel his heartbeat beneath his shirt. Still, something felt wrong. He had no body heat like a normal living man through a simple cotton shirt should, and the heartbeat you felt was significantly slower than it should be.

“Who are you?” you whimpered, palm to his chest without even an attempt to remove it.

“I told you who I was. Terzo Emeritus.”

“J-junior?” you asked him. His brow creased in confusion, missing what you were asking entirely. “Terzo Junior? The grave, it… it says Terzo.”

Now he understood, sensing your confusion and chuckling lightly at it.

“Just Terzo,” he told you, gentle grip still on your wrist. You could pull your hand away if you tried, and yet, you kept it in place as if his own slow heartbeat was somehow reducing your own to a more comfortable pace.

You were at a loss for words now, brain running far too quickly to settle on something suitable to say to him. But at least now you had grown aware of your palm still settled on his chest, prompting you to rip it from his grip expecting him to put up some kind of resistance, to which you met none.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him, unable to tear your eyes from him in the same manner you’d torn your wrist from him.

“Perhaps only your company,” he shrugged slightly, raising an eyebrow in suggestion. “To exist with you, here.”

“This is my house…”

“Sí, so you keep saying.” A beat of silence passed as you thought of what he was truly asking, what that even meant.

“I want you to stay away from me,” you insisted, finding a shred of strength within you. Terzo took in a deep breath through his nose, letting it go as he studied you.

“I don’t think I can do that, cara mio,” he sighed. His admission had tears forming in your waterline, a new fear that you wouldn’t be able to shake this man’s seemingly growing obsession with you. All you wanted was peace, solitude and an escape but you’d fallen into a web, and the spider was crawling towards you agonisingly slowly.

You took a few deep breaths, each exhale shaky. You just wanted him to go, to leave you alone. Maybe this had been his house once before, but it was yours now, and he couldn’t stay here. He already seemed infatuated with you, if the way he looked at you now was anything to go by. His eyes drank you in like he was a starving man, and you were the ripest of fruits for him to devour.

“Please, I just want to be left alone…” you begged, tilting your head back against the wall and letting the tears fall as you squeezed your eyes shut, suppressing a sob in your chest.

Silence descended, and suddenly the weighted oppression of his presence vanished with a swift breeze. Even with your eyes shut, you could feel he wasn’t entrapping you anymore but when you opened them, you saw he wasn’t anywhere near you at all.

He’d vanished again, faster than a snap of your fingers.

And you were left wondering if any of that, once again, was real or a fantasy of your own making. You were so sure you felt a solid body, a real heartbeat. You weren’t a scientist, nor a paranormal specialist but you would assume if he was the spirit of the man buried in your back yard, you wouldn’t be able to feel him in such a way.

But now he had vanished, the feeling he left with you felt very much like an oppressive presence, a lingering energy. Now he left you with the anxiety of another visit without warning, another appearance to trick you into believing your delusions were true.

You expected to see him again.

Another week passed, a surface layer of anxiety lingering persistently. All you could do was focus your attention on your project, doing your absolute best to continue as normal. Now you had finished the master bedroom, you moved onto the upstairs bathroom, which had needed gutting and refitting.

You’d had a small team of plumbers in to replace the pipes through the house just as you had electricians to rewire the place before you’d moved in, and until now, all you’d had was the bare bones of a shiny new bathroom. You’d installed some counters with a new sink, the gold hardware matching around the bathroom. The marble top was a beautifully tasteful black with gold veins to match the black wood of the cabinets.

Even in here, you stuck to your darker aesthetic. The walls were painted a beautiful matte black, the floor tiled with black and white squares. It took you all week, two of those days on tiling alone. But it was something to focus on, a room that you knew would be frequently used and so needed to be finished now your bedroom was complete.

When it came to adding the finishing touches, it felt like the cherry on top of another beautifully made cake. Your house was quickly turning into a showroom, a place that could be featured in home renovation magazines had you been willing to open it up.

But already, you’d had one too many visitors in your home for your liking…

By the end of the week, you were exhausted – more so than usual. The anxiety of feeling watched, monitored, stalked was taking its toll on you, and you needed some respite. For all you knew, Terzo Emeritus could show up at any moment to frighten, repulse and excite you. It was weighing heavy, and your mind was just as spent as your body was.

As you headed to bed that evening, you allowed yourself some self-care in the bathroom you’d now finished. The point of renovating this house was to enjoy it, right? So why deny yourself that…

You filled the new clawfoot tub with hot water, brimming with bubbles and scents that had you falling into a state of total calm before you’d even sunk into it. Your tiny little radio joined you in the bathroom, tuned to a station that played nothing but classical, and on a bath shelf you’d bought you rested some candles, a book and a full glass of red wine to enjoy as you pampered yourself.

Sinking into the water, you relished in the feeling of being submerged in its warmth. Almost instantly, the tension in your shoulders melted away, eyes closing in bliss as your head slipped back to rest against the tub’s edge. You couldn’t help but let out a hum of satisfaction, the relief and pleasure accumulating in a soft moan.

As you let your body relax, a noise caught your attention; a floorboard, creaking just outside of the bathroom door. Your eyes shot open, your body reacting and freezing in place. However when you let your eyes roam over to the mirror above the bathroom sink, you saw him…

By force of habit, you’d left the bathroom door ajar, a small gap just large enough to be able to see that ghostly eye of his in the dim hallway, and the outline of him peeking through the door. Your heart rate hammered in your chest as it always did when you saw him, but you remained still. For now, he wasn’t making any kind of move, and he didn’t seem to be aware you had seen him.

But he was definitely there, watching you as you bathed. It was violating, invasive, perverse… And yet, you did nothing about it.

Instead, you sank further underneath the bubbles, reaching for your wine glass with your eyes trained on the mirror. You took a sip, relishing in the taste and releasing another satisfied moan as if putting on a damn show for him. What possessed you to do so, you had no idea, but he’d been tormenting your mind for weeks now – why couldn’t you do the same to him?

Reaching for your loofah, you dunked it under the water and sat upright, back exposed to him. You stretched your arm out, running the loofah along your skin in a slow and deliberate manner. You were careful to never expose yourself too much, but to tease with the expanse of pretty, bare skin to conjure enough suggestion in his mind that would leave a man desperate to see more.

When you ran the loofah up the length of your leg just above the water, you heard the floorboards creak again, like he was fidgeting on the other side of the door. You checked in the mirror to see if he was still there, and he most certainly was, but you were having the effect on him you hoped for.

Perhaps you stretched it out a little longer than necessary, running the loofah over your body more than needed but you were making your point. Your wicked little mind was ticking over, aware he could only see what you wanted him to; your shoulders and head above the bubbles from behind. Do you dare to cross the line…?

Perhaps the thrill of being watched was having an effect on you too, because you came to the conclusion that yes, you did dare to cross the line.

You lay back against the tub again, using the loofah now to run across your shoulders and down between the valley of your breasts, which the bubbles were barely covering in your relaxed position. You trailed the loofah further down, reaching over your stomach and between your legs.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you brushed the loofah over your core, now realising that washing yourself so intimately – and being watched while doing so – had aroused you more than you’d first thought. A flash of pleasure had you squeezing your eyes shut again, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grazing over your centre with added pressure, hips rocking in the water.

Before long, you abandoned the loofah all together, and from where he was stood, Terzo could see it float and bob up to the surface which had him drawing only one conclusion; you were definitely not just washing yourself.

You worked slowly, methodically. It had been so long since you’d let go like this, since you’d last touched yourself at all and you wanted to savour it, to enjoy it. You were in no rush, working your fingers in gentle and slow circles over your clit under the water. The moans that you let slip weren’t at all restrained or controlled; for all you knew, you were alone, right? So why would you hold back?

 It was impossible not to keep checking the mirror, to make sure he was still there and every time, he was. You couldn’t help but let your imagination run away with you, picturing him entering the room, kneeling down beside the tub and reaching his hand between your legs for you. You pictured him taking you from the bathroom, into the bedroom and having his way with you, dark, handsome and brooding as he always had been.

You imagined his hands beneath his gloves, his bare fingertips tracing patterns into your skin, his full lips trailing kisses down your still wet body. What did he look like under those layers of his? How would he feel under your own fingertips? How would he feel inside you?

But Terzo made no such move. Instead, he watched silently from the shadows, and each time you caught that glimpse of him your hips bucked towards your hand until eventually, you couldn’t hold back anymore and allowed yourself to fall over the precipice.

Your orgasm was powerful, thanks to not only the lack of self love recently, but also, the arousal of becoming an exhibitionist. It rippled through your body like the water around you, and had you crying out wordlessly as you sank further into the water up to your chin. You hadn’t felt so good in a long time, and it worked perfectly to relieve the remainder of that tension in your body.

As you came down from the orgasm, you dared to glance back at the mirror only to find that he’d vanished. Another little disappearing act, only this time, you found yourself free of the anxiety that usually came with that, and instead smug with the knowledge you might have got one over on him for a change. You’d teased him to a point that he couldn’t tear his eyes from you until it was over, and for a moment you felt truly powerful. At least, if he were real… and not a fantasy you’d concocted for yourself. There was still the very real possibility that all of this was just your own madness and loneliness, and you were just now starting to lean into the delusions as a form of self-preservation.

For a little while longer, you stayed put in the tub, enjoying your book, the rest of your wine and the music in the background. Of course, you kept checking on the mirror to see if maybe he’d return for another look, but nothing. It was twisted, the way your stomach drooped in disappointment each time, but you brushed it off. You were sure before long, you would see him again – whether real or fictional.

Once you had finished in the bathroom, draining the tub and rinsing the suds away, you floated back into your bedroom wrapped in a bathrobe and ready to sink into bed with your book. You pottered around, changing into some pyjamas and crawling under the sheets when a glimpse of colour caught the light beside your bed, earning your attention.

Hanging from your bedside lamp was a pendant, and most certainly not one of yours. They were stored in a jewellery box atop the dresser, not hung on display like this… but it was beautiful, and you reached over to lay the charm in your palm and inspect it properly.

It was simple, yet elegant. The charm was shaped like a water drop, except the stone was purple; perhaps amethyst or a rarer sapphire but it caught the light exceptionally. Surrounding it, were smaller stones that resembled diamonds, but your knowledge of precious stones couldn’t confirm whether they were in fact real, or if this were costume jewellery. It didn’t matter though, it was beautiful as it was, sparkling under your bedside lamp.

You had no idea how it got here, but you could hazard a guess. It had been left for you like a gift, delicately placed in a position that would get your attention. There was only one person it could have come from, and as you played with the unusual pendant under the light, you began to realise that maybe he wasn’t the figment of your imagination you were trying to pass him off as…

The next morning, you had a revived energy, a spring in your step from a decent night’s sleep. The time spent on self care seemed to do the job, relieving the stress enough for you to be ready to tackle the downstairs living room next. Truthfully, your new found vigour may have also had something to do with a large part of you giving in to the idea that Terzo was not a fantasy, he’d been very real this whole time.

You still had no idea who he was, or how he was a real person. You were beginning to think that perhaps spirits did walk the earth, just by how he seemed to appear and disappear on a dime. But you remembered the heartbeat, the solid chest under your palm…

There were so many questions. Who was he? A descendant of the family this house once belonged to, and rested in your garden? How does he keep getting in? He mentioned entrances you might not know about, but you’d searched thoroughly, or so you thought. Was he obsessed with you? Stalking you?

Was he dangerous?

His behaviour was most definitely shady – people don’t just come and go in other people’s homes as they please. But you’d never reported him, no matter how much you’d threatened it. To begin with you’d hoped the threat of calling the cops would be enough to deter him, but he always came back. And at every opportunity, he could have done something to hurt you, yet never did. Even last night, you were in a completely vulnerable position. And whilst peeping on you in the bath was absolutely a violation and a crime in itself, all he did was watch. And you let him.

His existence was confusing, but you’d surrendered to the notion that he did in fact exist; and honestly, that in itself was quite freeing. It felt like some kind of weight had lifted, and it made beginning work on the living room easier to stomach.

This room had suffered in the years the house sat in decay. The old windows had made way for black mould to grow around it, and whilst you’d had the windows replaced since, the mould was still present. Your first job was to clean the walls and potentially replace some of the floorboards, if the moisture had taken hold of the wood.

Armed with a bucket of diluted bleach and a sponge, you got to work scrubbing at the walls and the large window sill that you were planning to convert into a cosy nook; a perfect place to sit and watch the world go by, book in hand. Your little radio sat on the mantelpiece of the stunning fireplace you were going to bring back to life, blaring out the same cycle of tunes you were used to now you’d tuned it back from the classical of last night.

You let yourself zone out as you scrubbed at the mould, singing along to the radio now you knew most of the songs blaring from it. It was a wonder you weren’t sick of them yet, but you still hadn’t got around to unpacking your record player that was supposed to have a home in this particular room. First, you had to finish it though, of course.

As one song ended, the radio host announced a lunchtime bulletin. By this time you were only half listening, fixated on the satisfying cleaning job.

“It’s 1pm, you’re listening to 108.3fm – here’s your lunchtime bulletin. Police have made a shocking discovery after the disappearance of 25 year old Amanda Riley just three days ago.”

Your ears perked up at the news, now getting your attention. Another one? This was concerning, terrifying even. And now they’d made a discovery?

“Human remains were discovered just outside of town in a wooded area yesterday, which police have now confirmed are that of Amanda. Family members formally identified the body, and police have given a statement to locals urging caution and vigilance. Sheriff Ansel had this to say…

“‘We believe Ms. Riley’s murder to be connected to the string of disappearances in the area in the last few months. The victim was found with all her personal belongings still on her person, including wallet, cash, ID and mobile phone, however when the family came to formally identify the body, they noted that the only thing taken from her was her unusual pendant…’”

Your blood turned cold. The hand still scrubbing at the wall froze in place, and slowly, you turned to look at the radio as if it was speaking directly to you.

“‘The pendant is recognisable as a purple amethyst in a teardrop shape, surrounded by smaller white diamonds. While the item is valuable, we believe that the killer may have taken such a personal item as a trophy, which could be part of their M.O. Still, we are urging the public to please keep an eye out to see if we can trace this item, either in pawn shops or perhaps being sold online. We ask that you not panic, and please get in touch if you note anything suspicious. Thank you.’”

Your hand dropped the sponge back into the bucket of diluted bleach, drifting up to your chest where that very same pendant was sat against your skin. You’d put it on that morning, barely even thinking about it, just because you liked it.

But he’d given it to you. Left it out in the open for you, like he was proud of it. He’d given you a dead girl’s fucking necklace. And there was only one way he could have got it…

You stood up, running into the kitchen and colliding with the sink before your body displayed it’s disgust by vomiting violently. All those unanswered questions, and yet, one of them had been answered.

Who was he? A murderer.

As you coughed and spluttered your breakfast into the sink, your mind raced. She wasn’t the only missing person, just the first body to have been found. There were others. So many others, for nine months. Thirteen missing people, one of which found dead with this fucking necklace missing.

You felt dizzy, like a wave of vertigo hit you in an instant. You hobbled over to the fridge, clutching at the kitchen counter to keep yourself steady and rooting around for a bottle of water. Your hands shook as you unscrewed the lid, taking a sip to rinse out your mouth as you stumbled back to the sink to spit. You took another sip, this time swallowing and trying your best to focus on the sensation of the cool water trickling down your throat. But your head was too busy.

Trophies. He was taking trophies? Why? This sick bastard must enjoy it, he must relish in his kills, wanting something to remember each one by. What else had he taken…? And then you remembered.

The box under the floorboards.

You slammed the water bottle down on the side, a jet propelling out onto the work surface from the force. Before you knew it your feet were moving of their own accord, up the stairs and down the hall. You were unsteady, tripping into the walls as you walked. You needed to know, but you didn’t want to.

Stumbling into the bare room, you fell to your knees with a hard smack where the floorboard was loose. Shaking hands lifted the plank, reaching underneath to check the box was still there; it was. You pulled it from its hiding place setting it down on the floor while you racked up the courage to open it again.

In one quick motion, you unlocked the latch and flung the lid open like ripping off a band aid. All the items were still there, just the way you’d left them, including the watch that had made you question them in the first place. It looked like it could have been vintage, save for the date wound to March of this year.

You looked at the collection of random items; the watch, the cuff links, the old red lipstick, the cheap bracelet, a skeleton key, a tiny used bottle of perfume, a red comb, an old butterfly hairpin, a daisy pin badge, a rusty swiss army knife, a fountain pen and a vintage zippo lighter.

Twelve items.

With the necklace, that made thirteen. Thirteen items. Thirteen victims. Thirteen trophies.

“I should have hidden them better, eh?”

The sound of his voice had your body stiffening in fear, skin instantly peppered with goosebumps. You hadn’t even begun to think about confronting him or having to see him. You weren’t sure what you were going to do yet, but you’d have hoped to have time to calm yourself down and think rationally about your options.

But you were going to have to do this ad-hoc.

“I don’t often make mistakes, bella cosa, but when I do… They haunt me. I suppose my kindness is coming back to bite me on the culo (ass).”

He sounded surprisingly calm for a man who’d just been found out to be a serial killer. It unnerved you, and no part of you could figure out his next move. You were a sitting duck.

Slowly, and carefully, you stood up, turning around to look at him. Part of you worried if you startled him with sudden movement, he might strike like any predator would its prey.

He was stood in the doorway, leaning up against the wood with his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks, coat pushed back behind them. He looked far too casual, his face hinting at neither anger nor humour – nowhere on the emotional spectrum.

“Kindness?” you asked, ruminating over his use of the word. “There’s no kindness in what you’ve done.” Perhaps it was dangerous to speak so ill of the murderer in front of you, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His neutral expression darkened in a warning glare, his chin tipping up so he was looking down on you, adding to his intimidating aura.

“Not everybody deserves kindness, cara mio. Some deserve far less,” he challenged, pushing himself off the doorframe and taking slow steps into the room, keeping a distance from you still.

“No one deserves that…”

Terzo scoffed, looking off to gaze out of the window and shaking his head as if what you said offended him in some way.

“So now you know,” he shrugged, looking back towards you, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets. You kept an eye on them, mind racing with all kinds of possibilities – he could have a weapon of some sorts hidden from view. You needed to be on your guard. “I suppose you will report me now, sí?”

There was a playful glint in his eyes that you didn’t miss, like he was taunting you, waving a red flag to a bull. If you said you were, would he attack you too? But surely he couldn’t simply take your word for it if you said you wouldn’t either… Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you were going to do. Your only instinct was to run – fast.

You let his question linger in the air, far too much silence going by as he watched you, assuming you’d frozen in fear. He hadn’t expected you to dart towards the door, your only goal to get downstairs and out of the house as quickly as possible. So when you did exactly that, he watched for a split second, anger snapping inside him.

You barely made it out of the room before you felt a sudden force slam you forwards and into the wall of the corridor. A scream erupted from your chest, blood-curdling and gut-wrenching to anyone who would have heard it – but out here? No one would. How he’d moved so fast, you had no idea, but he had both of your wrists behind your back, and his whole body weight held you tightly against the wall.

“You are leaving so soon?” he asked, leaning in to speak directly in your ear as you writhed under him to try and escape, but his grip was too strong even without him putting seemingly any effort into it. “I was just getting used to you living in my house…”

“This is MY house,” you growled, gritting your teeth and avoiding his eyes.

“Then why should you want to leave? Are you scared I might hurt you, cara mio?”

Tears spilled from your waterline, giving away your fear and distress. Of course you were scared he was going to hurt you. He’d already hurt so many…

When he received no answer from you other than a sob in defeat and the stilling of your limbs as you gave up fighting his grip, he manhandled you until you span around, your back now against the wall just like it had been the other day.

“Th-this isn’t real… You’re not real…” you whispered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in the hopes you might wake up from your nightmare. You did not.

“I’m quite real, cara. We’ve been over this, no?” he lifted your wrist again like he had the other day, this time settling your hand delicately on his cheek and holding it there with his much bigger palm. “See?”

His gentility confused you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw a strange softness in his face. For a moment, you almost thought his expression was one of admiration. It didn’t matter what it was, but you couldn’t look away. This man – this serial killer – was being so gentle with you, his eyes cast over you like he was utterly obsessed with you.

“Why?” you whispered, more tears spilling over your cheeks. Still, you held his, despite his grip on your hand lessening ever so slightly. You wanted to understand, talk him down maybe just enough to let you go. You wanted to appeal to the softness you saw in him.

“I have no choice,” he said flatly, almost with a hint of shame. But that only crossed the wires in your mind more.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“I choose them carefully… They are not good people, cara. They have ruined others lives, even taken them and I-“ he stopped himself, looking down at the floor in shame. Your brows creased together, trying to piece your thoughts into coherency.

“It’s always a choice,” you started to argue back, softly so as not to raise any more rage within him in such a precarious position such as the one you found yourself in beneath him. But his head snapped back up nonetheless, his hand gripping onto yours and throwing it back down beside you. He kept you caged beneath him still, hands planted firmly on the wall.

“I assure you, bella ragazza (pretty girl), there is no choice. It is me or them.”

Slowly, he raised his head from where he’d stared at the floorboards between your feet. His eyes watched you closely as he tilted his head back a little, and his lips parted until you could clearly see two very white, very sharp fangs protruding from under his top lip.

For a moment you didn’t react at all, calculating what you were seeing. His hands hadn’t moved, so he hadn’t put them in himself. You’d seen him so many times, and up close too, and never saw them before… They had to be real. He had fangs.

“That’s impossible…” you whispered, “there’s no such thing as-“

“Vampires?” he finished your sentence for you, “I’m sorry to shatter your illusion of a perfect world, cara mio, but I can assure you, there certainly is.”

Finally, your survival instincts kicked in, adrenaline pumping through your veins almost in an instant. You shoved your hands against his chest and pushed with all the strength you had, trying to get him away from you, to preserve yourself. All this time you had felt like prey, and it had been instinct all along. You were prey.

Your shove did nothing. He remained unmoving, like stone encasing you against the wall. You thrashed your arms around, trying to escape him but it was completely useless. You were already trapped, and at the mercy of a real vampire.

“I’m sorry, cara mio, but you will not overcome my strength nor my speed. This is useless, I assure you.” His voice had no hint of patronising, instead of genuine sorrow. It felt as if he knew he had to kill you now, but he didn’t want to kill you. You gave up, your fists balling up against his chest as you lay your head back against the wall, out of breath and sobbing as you accepted your fate.

“Please… don’t kill me, Terzo…” you wept, head lolling forward to look into his eyes for what you thought might be the last time.

His brow was creased, his lips parted in horror as he looked back at you. He raised his gloved hand and wiped at the tracks on your cheek. “I don’t wish to kill you, cara mio… You understand, no? I must kill to stay alive, but not you – never you.”

You barely registered what he was saying before you were shooting questions at him again, needing to know more, to understand why he chose those people. Why he kept their trophies…

“Why them? Why did you choose them? They were innocent, just like me. Why did they deserve that?” you sobbed, your chest heaving as he held your cheek, still caging you against the wall.

“The girl they found? What the polizia (police) don’t know is she was behind the wheel of an intentional hit and run a few years ago. The store clerk a few weeks back? You do not want to see what was on his hard drive. All of them, vile humans. There is more evil in this world than you could possibly fathom, tesoro. They even tasted different…” he shrivelled his face in disgust, “but it keeps me alive, and my conscience semi-clear.”

The shock of his revelation did nothing to help your racing heart or foggy mind, processing everything far slower than you would like in this tumultuous situation.

“Suppose that was true, why do you keep their things?” you prodded further – there must be some part of him that enjoys it. Even if only the fact he were proud of removing scum from the earth, if that were true.

“Because I carry their souls with me… No matter how evil, they are people, and I take their life. Each one is a burden, and I must never forget that.”

There was genuine sorrow, genuine regret there. You could see it. But it changed nothing, he was still a murderer, a monster. And you were still trapped underneath him, literally backed up against a wall and inches away from deadly threat.

“But… it’s sick, Terzo! They’re kept like trophies, like you’re proud of what you do to them!” you protested. He hollowed his cheeks in annoyance, becoming more defensive as you accused him.

The hand that wiped your tears lowered to your neck, his fingertips tracing along the chain of the necklace you had yet to take off, until it reached the unusual pendant, where he played with it against your collarbone.

“And yet, you still wear it. You had time to take it off, if you were so disgusted by it. But here it is, looking so pretty around your… beautiful neck,” he sighed, his eyes roaming hungrily over the exposed skin he so clearly wanted to puncture and drink from. The fear in you started to rise again, your pulse that had just started to settle raising. More hot tears fell over your waterline as you took a deep, shaky breath.

“What… what do you want from me?” you pleaded, your voice trembling and squeaky. His eyes flickered up to yours, fingertips still playing with the pendant, grazing the skin so gently it left goosebumps. You would never admit to the thrill his touch seemed to be giving you, knowing what you know of him now.

But Terzo leaned in further, his hips meeting yours and pressing you further against the wall. The hand that had been keeping you caged against the wall all this time dropped to your waist, holding you just enough to send a wave of curious gratification through your abdomen. He was close enough that your noses would touch, should he tip his head down to you. You could feel his icy breath against your face again – a symptom of his state of undead, you now understood.

“I want you to love me, tesoro…” he confessed in a whisper, watching for your reaction.

“I only fear you,” you defied, unable to admit the curiosity his request sparked.

“Are they not the same?” His eyebrow arched up in question, waiting for your response. But honestly, you had none. You were dumbfounded, wondering what on earth he meant by that. Of course they weren’t the same, nothing about love and fear are the same. The attraction you had felt towards him in recent encounters was fleeting; a right place, right time kind of attraction. It had nothing to do with him, and now knowing what he was, it could never be him again.

Terzo understood your silence to be an internal monologue, a debate in your own mind. He pressed further, illustrating his point.

“Let me ask you, tesoro, does the thought of me make your hairs stand on end?” his fingertips grazed along the length of your collarbone, the grip on your waist squeezing slightly, “Does it make your stomach fill with the flutter of butterfly wings? Does it make your heart beat like the thrum of a hummingbird’s wings?”

You couldn’t deny it, but those were markers of fear as well as love. It didn’t mean they were synonymous. You refused to answer him.

“I can hear it, you know…” his hand flattened against your collarbone, “The pounding in your chest, the rushing of your blood through your veins. I hear them, working so hard when you are near me.”

Terzo leaned into your neck, his nose brushing against your jugular so tenderly as he breathed in deeply, enjoying your scent to the point of near intoxication. Little did you know, it was that scent that drew him out of hiding in the first place. He simply couldn’t stay away from you, and when he saw where the scent was coming from, saw your sheer beauty, he understood why you smelled as tempting as you did.

“Fear smells just like love to me, tesoro. It adds a sweetness to your already saccharine scent. Just like nectar appeals to a honey bee, you appeal to me much the same,” he continued to nuzzle his nose against your skin, his breath fanning over your collarbone. Every so often in his clumsy, inebriated state his lips would gently tickle the skin, sending a rush through you that now you were certain he could smell. “That nectar can be turned into honey, no? I wonder if I could do the same for you…”

You bit your lip, looking up towards the ceiling in an attempt to avoid his eyes that frankly were too hypnotic for their own good.

“They are all markers of fear, Terzo…” you whimpered. You felt his breath as he chuckled against your skin.

“Then tell me why I can smell the sweetest honey already pooling between your legs, cara mio…”

Your head snapped down to look at him, and you met his eyes already waiting for you, a smirk on his lips. You wanted to deny it, to slap him, to push him away from you but what was the point? He was right. There was no denying it. He could smell you.

The shame you felt, letting a monster like him have such an effect on you, was astronomical.

“Please…”  you pleaded; for what, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, cara mio? What can I give you?” he asked, straightening up and again cupping your cheek with his gloved hand, still holding your waist, still pressing his hips to yours. His lips were so close, all you could do was stare at them until you snapped yourself out of it, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Everything.”

It took no longer than a heartbeat for Terzo to process your answer, before his lips attached to yours so fast and hard you felt his fangs scrape against your bottom lip. A thrill zapped your core, and your balled up fists against his chest gripped the lapels of his coat to bring him impossibly close. You succumbed so quickly to him, desperate to feel his lips against yours.

While you were sure this feeling was not love, it was certainly not fear either. ‘Infatuation’ felt closer to the truth, borderline obsession just as Terzo had exhibited towards you. But denying it was futile now, and so instead, you leaned into it. The pair of you desperately held onto each other, kissing as if this was the only way you could get oxygen, and you’d been suffocating without each other.

Terzo started to move, trailing his passion down to your jawline, underneath your ear and down to your neck. Your heartrate quickened again, knowing that his mouth near your neck could go only one of two ways. Both options seemed to excite you in equal measures…

“W-will it hurt…?” you asked him, as you felt his fangs graze against your skin lightly, like he was holding himself back.

“Just for a second…” he panted like a dog laying out in the sun. And he wasn’t wrong, the pain would be momentary, his fangs emitting a small amount of venom that acts as an anaesthetic. That wasn’t the problem, and it wasn’t what stopped him in his tracks. “But I can’t…”

You cupped his cheeks, lifting his head to look him in the eye again. “What’s wrong?”

He looked as if he were in pain, his face screwed up in utter agony. He kept shaking his head, like he didn’t want to say it, like he was hiding a secret that would break him just to say aloud.

“If… If I do this, I might not be able to stop,” he whined, “and even if I do, how could I ever let you go after tasting you?”

You searched his eyes, saw the pain and the uncertainty in them. He truly didn’t want to hurt you, and right now he looked more vulnerable than you would think a creature of the night was capable of being.

“When you moved in I couldn’t leave you, I couldn’t stay away… And that was merely your smell, Tesoro. I’m afraid if I taste you, I could never leave you alone again.”

His admission floored you, and as much as the idea of giving yourself over to him willingly seemed to appeal to you, the rational part of your brain was still working enough to understand that that was a line that should not be crossed just yet.

“It’s okay… It’s okay,” you told him sincerely, comforting his distress before bringing his lips back to yours and resuming your heated exchange. Perhaps someday you would allow him that taste, a way of committing deeper than you could possibly comprehend at this stage. But there was a reason for the phrase “blood pact”, and it didn’t originate with the exchange of open wounds between two mortals.

As enthralled as he was in your lips, feeling your pulse beneath them tempting him, Terzo had to push the thought to the back of his mind. He couldn’t lose himself to the temptation so soon. He’d frighten you away if you saw him so feral, and he couldn’t let you disappear like everyone else in his life – not the only woman to ever have smelled so divine to him. Only he knew what that meant, that pull…  You were it for him. His obsession was unavoidable, you were his promised love.

It happened instantaneously for his kind, but for you? It would take time for you to see it, to feel what he felt. Human sense of smell was nowhere near as powerful, and so you could never know just by his scent that he was the one for you, the soul on the other end of the red string tied around your wrist.

To rid his mind of the temptation, he focussed on the moment at hand. His intense grip on your waste drifted over your hips and to the backs of your thighs until he was lifting them, using his hips to ground you against the wall so you wouldn’t fall. It was as if you were weightless to him, his inhuman strength making such light work of carrying you further down the hall and into your bedroom – his bedroom – until you both fell onto the bed.

No part of you thought for even a millisecond of stopping him, an intense need for him screaming from within you. You pushed his coat from his shoulders, diverting to his shirt buttons as soon as he began pulling at his sleeves to rid himself of the heavy wool. In no time at all, his chest was bare to you, peppered with dark hair that you’d expect from a man of Italian descent. You pulled him closer to you, reattaching your lips desperately.

His gloves disappeared as you kissed him, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the touch of his cold skin on yours, his hands sliding up under the hem of your shirt to hold you. He paused for a moment, searching your face for any sign his touch wasn’t welcome.

“Just cold…” you assured him, running your fingers through the dark locks of hair that had fallen over his face as he hovered above you.

“I, eh… sí, mi scusi, I am cold to the touch…” he apologised, a wave of insecurity flashing through his expression.

“I don’t mind,” you smiled sweetly, pulling him down with your hand woven into his hair and kissing his insecurity away. He regained his confidence, grip returning to your bare waist under your shirt and tightening with gratitude at your reassurance.

The way he kissed you was like worship, like he valued every second you allowed him to touch you, to be with you – and as he slowly began to undress you, his worship continued. He started with your shirt, pushing it up your abdomen and peppering the skin with more kisses as he exposed it. Over the curve of your breast peaking from above the cup of your bra, you felt the low rumble of a groan against your chest that was suppressed as he buried his face into your flesh. He was so gentle, so calculated in his motions and it was driving you crazy already.

Once your shirt was finally above your head and discarded somewhere to the side, he pulled the straps of your bra down, kissing along your shoulders and down your arms until he reached behind you to unclasp it. Your breasts bounced before him, and he immediately began to leave open mouthed kisses over them, laving his tongue over your nipples as they stood to attention under the chill of his lips. His free hand worked at your other breast, kneading like he was making the finest ricciarelli biscuit dough.

You couldn’t help the soft whines and hums that left your body as he worshipped you, hips rolling under him in a desperate attempt to feel something more. You wanted him so badly, already overcome with desire.

His hand came to rest on your hip, squeezing and he continued to suckle at your breast. His fingers dipped easily into the waistband of your paint-smeared sweats – one of several pairs you alternated when working on the house renovations. Before long, he was dragging them down your thighs, his cold knuckles grazing at the skin and sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

Terzo was taking his time without wasting any. He knew what he wanted, what you wanted, but he spent just enough time working your body, lavishing it to build anticipation. But before long, his kisses began to travel south, leaving a path of wet little marks down between the valley of your breasts and your navel until he was tracing the hem of your underwear, daring to run his finger along the sensitive skin.

It took a formidable amount of strength and restraint to keep your hips as still as you did, and even then, you were wriggling under his touch. But when he could tell you were growing restless, he wrapped his arm underneath your thigh and lifted it above his shoulder. Naturally, you spread wider for him, giving him complete access to your covered core where he could see so clearly the stain of arousal.

He was so close to you, the scent of your sweet honey so intoxicating. You could never understand how divine that scent was with your own human senses, but to him? It cemented itself in his memory. He knew that after today, he would never forget it. He didn’t want to rush, but frankly, it was getting impossible to resist a taste.

He lifted the hem of your panties and pierced the material beneath it with his fangs, easily tearing it away from your body before he pressed his nose to your mound, and took in a deep inhale. He growled between your legs, the vibration and exhale teasing your nerves until you were clenching around nothing.

He could wait no longer, his tongue reaching out to lap between your folds in one slow motion. He savoured the taste on his tongue, making sure to collect as much honey as he could for a truly overwhelming taste. You watched as his hips rocked into the bed below him, his hands tightening on your thighs. His tongue felt cold too, but the pressure was so welcome, a wave of euphoria passing through your core.

Expertly, Terzo used his whole mouth to bring you the pleasure he thought you deserved and yet, not once did you worry about the sharp fangs he’d used to strip you. He had the ability to retract them should he need to, and for this particularly delicate activity, he did just that. But his lips and tongue worked together to have you moaning at every lap, hips rolling underneath him.

Your hands found their way to his hair for purchase, tugging at the roots every time he sent a surge of pleasure through your clit. He loved it, moaning with you as if he too was close to an orgasm. Both of you had lost yourselves to the moment, completely enthralled in lust.

Terzo was becoming more and more desperate to have you finish on his tongue. Each pretty little sound he caused only made him want to hear more, and as you grew closer and closer to orgasm, you sweetened with added hormones that drove him wild. He unwrapped a hand from around your thigh and easily slid two fingers inside, not bothering nor needing to tease with how your body already gave itself over to him. He curled his fingers inside you, a shock of pleasure forcing your back to arch from the mattress as he found the perfect position.

His pace increased with every moan he elicited, the tension in your lower abdomen growing until you were on the verge of snapping.

“T-Terzo… Please,” you begged him. He chuckled darkly as he buried his face deeper within you, his nose adding to the equation and making your hips writhe until finally, that tension inside you snapped.

He didn’t stop, holding you down with inhuman strength as you erupted in cries of bliss. Your muscles contracted, thighs trapping his head in place and fingers pulling painfully at his hair.

Terzo slurped at your core, not letting a single drop of arousal go to waste. You tasted different as you came, the rush of hormones adding something so damn addictive that it wasn’t until you physically tried pushing his head away in oversensitivity that he snapped out of his trance, his head jolting up to look at you with his mouth and skin shimmering. He looked completely feral, his eyes wide, and you watched as his fangs returned with a snarl of a hungry animal locking onto its kill.

Your heart jumped in your chest; out of fear or lust you couldn’t be sure. But he heard it, the irregular thump as you lay vulnerable and weak beneath him. It only served to make his erection twitch in his slacks… Fear was a powerful feeling, and mixed with lust it was one of the most erotic combinations.

He crawled his way back up your body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before diving into a punishing kiss that knocked any remaining wind out of you. You could feel his length pressing into your hip, and while you were certainly already struggling with exertion you wanted nothing more than to know how he’d feel inside you.

So you reached between you both for his belt, fiddling with the buckle as you kissed him. Taking the hint, he kicked his shoes off over the edge of the bed, and when you’d managed to undo his belt and slacks, he helped to kick them with his underwear passed his knees to follow suit. With him bared to you and pressing into your hip once again, you could feel just how endowed he was, and just how ready for you he was.

“You are so beautiful, cara mio…” he mused between kisses, his cold fingertips trailing down your neck and arm, then back up. “And you can’t ever understand how exquisite you taste.”

“To an extent, I can…” you teased with a flirty smile, “I can taste myself on your tongue.”

He stared down at you for a moment, until realisation finally settled and his lips curled into a devilish grin.

“Tu sei una tentatrice, amore mio… (you are a temptress, my love…)” he whispered, lowering himself to your lips once again.

As you both lost yourself in another steamy kiss, you couldn’t help rolling your hips up to meet his. He hummed into your mouth, understanding that you wanted him completely, and reached between the two of you to grip himself. You spread your legs a little wider to make it easier for him, feeling how he prodded at your entrance once he’d lined himself up.

“Are you sure, amore?” he stopped to ask, and you nodded, biting your lip to contain the smile as you cupped his cheeks. With your permission, he slowly pushed forwards, filling you slowly as he glided through your slick. You fought to keep your eyes open, if only to watch the look of bliss that overcame his face – and boy was it worth it.

He looked so ethereal, like his pale skin had been carved by the finest of Greek sculptors in marble burdened with the curse of perfection. The chill of his skin did nothing to quell the burning heat of yours, finding the perfect balance.

“You’re so… warm,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he enjoyed the feeling for a moment. “Sembra fottutamente incredibile. (feels fucking incredible.)”

Given a moment to compose himself, he began to slowly rock his hips back and forth, gritting his teeth from the sensation alone. You would be the first to admit that he, too, felt incredible inside you, reaching places his fingers had only moments ago and sending waves of a dull pleasure through you once again at the embers of your last orgasm were being stoked.

His hand gripped your thigh and lifted it around his waist, obtaining a better angle and something for him to grip onto to stop his mind spiralling into sheer madness. Already, you were so difficult to resist; temptation was calling to him in the form of your steady, yet thundering pulse where his face lay against your neck. But if he lost himself, lost control like he was so terrified to, he was afraid resistance would fail him.

It was like torture. How could he feel so incredible pumping his length inside you while simultaneously experiencing the physical strain of holding his thirst back. You were his, he’d decided that long ago. But to truly make you his, all he would need to do was to give in, to sink his fangs into the skin he was peppering with kisses. He felt like a recovering addict desperately trying to resist as someone waved a hit under his nose. In some ways, that was exactly what he was.

But not yet. It was too soon. He had to resist for now, to let you make up your mind without ancient ritual influences before he allowed himself to truly make you his. He couldn’t bind himself to you, only for you to walk away when it all became too much, or hell forbid, you found someone more human to settle down with.

Instead, he focussed on the pleasure filling his cock as he pistoned in and out of you. He focussed on your pretty moans, and the way you clenched around him. He focussed on kisses to your neck instead of bites, groaning against your skin as he indulged in you. But too easily he lost himself, and soon he couldn’t help but drag his tongue from the bottom of your neck, to right underneath your ear.

You loved how it felt, completely oblivious to just how close you were to becoming a meal to him. To you it was simply another thing to drive you wild, and when you once again wrapped your fingers in his hair, your other arm pushing down on his back to pull him against you, you had no clue you were making it so much harder for him.

He kept suckling, licking, even nipping so gently at your neck – so fucking close to what he truly wanted as his instincts began to take over. He fought them as hard as he could snarling at himself in warning but still, you were oblivious to his internal fight and mistook his anguish for noises of pleasure.

Truly, he hadn’t meant to let it get this far; but when the sharp tip of his fang grazed just a little too close to where your pulse thundered against his tongue, and you writhed under him with a targeted hit to your g-spot, he nicked your skin just enough to draw the tiniest spec of blood… He hadn’t even noticed, your scent already filling his nose that he didn’t sense it intensify just a fraction until it was too late, and he’d laved his tongue over the graze.

It all happened too fast, then.

You were mid-moan when you felt an excruciating pain where his tongue had just been, the noise catching in your throat with a sudden choke. Your fingers naturally tightened in his hair, and your nails dug into the cold flesh of his back as a scream travelled its way through your ribcage and you couldn’t help but let it out. Your back arched and your muscles constricted, but Terzo’s hips never stopped and now that he’d got a taste of you – a real taste – he growled a visceral growl that you felt rumble in the pit of your stomach.

If he thought you’d tasted good between your legs, this was the most intensely delicious thing he’d ever had the pleasure of tasting. Such pure, untainted blood coated his tongue, dribbling down your neck as he ravished it. He’d known this was dangerous, that one bite would bind him to you for eternity after the first whiff of your scent when you moved in. But now that he’d tasted you, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d fought so hard to stave off.

“T-Terzo, you-“ you tried to stop him, remembering how pained he’d looked when he explained why he really couldn’t do this, but it truly was too late. All it took was one drop. He cut you off with a hand clamping over your jaw, his other holding your hip in place with bruising force.

His hips never stopped, every sensation he felt only pushing him to fuck into you harder like a rabid monster. In that moment, that was exactly what he was. In that first split-second, he frightened you. You saw the side of him he’d tried so hard to hide, and coupled with the pain in your neck, your body flooded with adrenaline – which of course, only added to the sublime taste of your blood.

But like he had promised, the venom acted fast. The pain ebbed away into nothing but a sensation of being prodded and sucked at. Still you held onto him tightly, unable to deny that this was possible one of the most intimate feelings you’d ever felt, and the pleasure started to stack up.

Even to a point, where the rush of blood through the two puncture wounds in your neck became a pleasurable experience. You’d have trouble explaining just how, but it felt unbelievable, like a massage that tickled and sent endorphins flooding your mind. Little did you know, that was also the venom coursing through your body. But it didn’t matter, because coupled with Terzo’s cock thrusting against your g-spot it was the most glorious feeling in the entire world.

As you barrelled closer to a second orgasm, Terzo ripped his fangs from your neck and looked down at you beneath him. He had a look in his eye that was so predatory that you knew immediately you belonged to him now, whether you liked it or not. As luck would have it, you did like it; very much. That obsessive look, that ownership turned you on to a point that had you squealing for him beneath his hand.

Quickly, you reached your peak for a second time, holding him so tightly you thought that maybe even you would draw blood with your nails in his back. Just as that second burst of pleasure coursed through you, Terzo reattached himself to your neck, drinking in the newly sweetened blood that a rush of hormones created for him. If you could imagine the most expensive, and decadent wine you had ever tasted, it wouldn’t hold a candle to the taste of your blood to him right now.

Suddenly he lurched back again, this time removing his hands from your body and holding himself up, only to dive in and sink his fangs into the swell of your breast as it bounced with the force of each of his trusts. Again, you were met with pain the flooded your body but mixed with the high of your orgasm, you could only scream in pleasure. He drank from you again, kneading at your other breast as he too hurtled towards an orgasm.

The pain subsided quickly thanks to another dose of his venom, but he continued to drink from you, prolonging your euphoria just long enough for him to finally and violently reach his own high.

He erupted inside you, his head throwing back as he growled and lost his rhythm, pounding sloppily into you with each twitch of his cock. In your post-orgasm haze, you witnessed the look of bliss on his face, seeing for the first time the distinct red that coated his lips and dripped from his fangs down to his chin. He looked manic, but holy shit it was intensely erotic.

With the small amount of strength left in you, you sat up just enough to push your lips to his. You don’t know why you did it, or even that you had until you could taste the metallic twang of iron on your tongue. Terzo collapsed into you, wrapping his arms around you as he rolled to the side, taking you along with him. With the mess he created of your core, he slipped from inside you, now simply intent on holding you close while he processed that you were kissing him, despite being tainted with your blood. But it grounded him, and slowly, his orgasm subsided and his mind cleared of its fog.

Your kiss came to a natural end, the pair of you exhausted, and without a word you lay yourself on his chest, not bothering to wipe away the smears of blood around your own mouth as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry…” he whimpered, pulling you tighter against him and obscuring your view of his face so you wouldn’t have to witness the shame that settled there. You didn’t have the energy to speak, instead hoping that the circling of your thumb over the cool skin of his chest was enough comfort for now to show him you didn’t mind, that you’d wanted that as much as he had.

You let some time pass, calming yourselves down in each other’s arms. His grip on you lessened as the minutes passed, and eventually, you were able to look up at his face. To your shock and heartbreak, you noticed his cheeks were wet with something other than blood – Terzo was crying.

“Hey…” you soothed, shuffling further up the bed to hover above him. He covered his face with his hand, hiding himself but you pulled it away, cupping his cheek and swiping at the tear tracks. “No, no no… Stop this, it’s okay.”

“Mi dispiace tantissimo, (I’m so sorry,)” he cried, “I hurt you. I did the one thing I should never have done…”

“Shhh,” you hushed him like a newborn who couldn’t sleep, “I wanted that, remember? I told you you could.”

“You don’t understand, I… I have bound myself to you, and now, when you leave… it will devastate me,” he sobbed, staring straight up at the canopy of the large bed, unable to look you in the eye.

“What makes you think I will leave?” you asked him gently, still gently swiping his fresh tears away whilst fighting your own.

“Amore mio, I have lost everybody I have ever cared about,” he told you, finally looking you in the eye. “I have either outlived them, or watched as they turned their back on me. And now I have selfishly bound myself to you, knowing that I cannot ever let you go.”

His admission broke your heart. You certainly had no intention of going anywhere, the bond you now shared with him feeling strangely cemented and more intimate than any you’d had with another. But in the end, time would come for you just as it had the rest of his family, lying under the earth of your own back garden.

“How does someone… become like you?” you asked tentatively, absentmindedly, playing with the chest hair the covered his pecks.

Terzo’s brow creased in confusion. “Why would you ask such a thing? I couldn’t condemn you to a life like this…” After all he’d been through; the killings, loss, isolation, and even the exile he’d faced decades ago when the townspeople discovered what he was… He couldn’t put you in a position like that. He didn’t want you to become part of the dark legend of the Emeritus house, another spooky story passed from generation to generation to tell around campfires for years to come.

“Just tell me, how?” you pressed. He sighed, laying his head back on the pillow and staring back up at the canopy.

“You would need to drink the blood of my kind,” he stated simply, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “I could not ask that of you. The process is not an easy one, and to become like me is to be condemned to a life of heartache.”

You thought for a moment, acknowledging his concerns but deciding that whilst that had been his experience, it didn’t need to be yours. Not with him beside you – neither of you would need to be lonely ever again.

“I’m so sorry you’ve felt that heartache, but I believe that the two of us together could avoid that.”

He raised his head to look at you again, examining your face for a moment while he contemplated what some kind of future might look like with you.

“Perhaps not yet, I understand. But Terzo, I will prove that I intend on going nowhere. And when you feel like you might be ready to trust that, I’ll be waiting,” you promised him, cupping his jaw and stroking your thumb gently over his cheek. “Until then, I can be your very own personal supply, hm?” you smiled, “You won’t need to take a life, so long as you have me little and often, right?”

“You… would do that? For me?” his eyebrows creased together in question, truly in disbelief you would offer him such a thing.

“Mhm,” you nodded, “I mean as long as every time feels as incredible as that,” you giggled. “And besides, you’ll get a decent meal at least once a month,” you joked, lightening the mood a little with a cheeky smirk.

Terzo rolled his eyes with a laugh that vibrated his chest beneath you. He shook his head at the absurdity of your offer, no matter how technically practical that sort of arrangement would actually be to a man of his kind.

“Oh, amore… sei davvero una tentatrice (you really are a temptress)…” he grinned, leaning up to capture your lips in a sweet, blood-stained kiss.

A/N: Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading! If you'd like to leave me a tip, you can do so here.

If you'd like to read any of my other works, you can find them here.

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Formaggi e Frutta

Papa Emeritus III x Reader | NSFW

AO3 | Insalata | Masterpost

Selecting the pairings for cheese can be deceptively complicated. Anyone can put some cheese on a tray and call it done but for it to be truly good some serious thought needs to be done. Texture, flavour, sweet vs savoury, creamy vs crunchy, all build up to a well rounded dish. The first bite of a juicy grape paired with tang of a strong cheddar, or the sweet bitterness of cranberry with the mellow creaminess of a brie. Every element has to work together to create a bigger experience. If you make these choices with care then you will have a show stopping course and all you had to do was some slicing.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You had been lingering in his office. He was perched on the edge of his desk with his arms locked around you, preventing you from leaving and ending your time together for the day. The two of you had been in this position for at least half an hour, every time you tried to extricate yourself he would pull you in for one last kiss which became two, then three, then he would remember another important matter you just had to discuss right now. So far you had covered Cabaret the musical, why linen was the superior summer material, his favourite type of pen to do signings and the lies he used to tell people about ghoul mating habits. And now you were discussing your favourite cheeses.

‘I honestly have to say I don’t think I have tried a cheese I didn't like,’ you admit after listening to him explain why Italian cheeses were by far the best in the world. He wrinkles his nose at you, shaking his head in disgust. As inconsequential as these topics were, you enjoyed hearing his typically outlandish opinions and his passionate defence of them. You may have even been guilty of disagreeing with him deliberately from time to time just to enjoy his attempts to convince you of his point of view. 

‘Even the stinky ones?’ He looks like even just thinking of them is a displeasure he can’t abide, the charmingly emphasised wrinkles above the bridge of his nose almost distracting you from his argument. ‘The French, thinking they can get away with crimes against dairy just because of a few good ones,’ he grumbles, pulling a laugh from you. 

‘I think the English are guilty of that too, I am afraid,’ you remind him. ‘Have you ever tried Stinking Bishop?’

‘Ugh!! Never and I never will,’ he shakes his head again refusing to even entertain the thought. ‘But, cara mia, that is why everything Italian is far superior,’ he says, lifting his eyebrows suggestively and you suspect he isn’t just talking about cheese any more.

‘With what I have learned in the last few months I can’t say I disagree,’ you reply against his lips as he is already reeling you in for another kiss. You don’t let him distract you for too much longer though this time. ‘I don’t think you should judge a cheese until you try it with accompaniments though. The right flavours paired with the right cheese can make all the difference.’ 

‘I suppose there is some truth to what you say, mia cuocoina,’ he trails off for a moment looking like he is waging a battle internally before he takes a deep breath and continues. ‘Speaking of cheese, did you know there is a farmers market in town this weekend? I have heard they have very many types of cheese on sale there.’

‘I had heard, yes. It happens every month.’ You think back fondly to those trips out of the Abbey with Mona. ‘We used to take it in turns to go and pick up some obscure ingredients as a challenge for the others. I haven’t had a chance to go for a while.’

‘Would you like to go to this one? With me?’ His hesitancy makes your heart melt. How this man could ever think you wouldn’t want to go with him you have no idea? As if you don’t willingly spend almost every moment of your free time with him.

‘Are you asking me on a date, Terzo?’ You tease, hoping to ease his worry a little. The two of you may have done everything backwards but you can’t help the little thrill you get from the idea of him taking you on a proper date. He had been watching you nervously as he waited for your response but at your gentle teasing the corner of his lips pulled up in a smile even as a light blush crawled across his cheeks. 

‘Si, I am,’ he says simply, lifting his head and looking you directly in the eyes, hypnotising you for a moment in his gaze.

‘I would love to go with you,’ you reply as soon as you snap out of it, not wanting to leave him hanging any longer. His wide smile always takes your breath away and you stand there for far too long, just grinning at each other before you realise you do really need to leave. You give him one last kiss before making your way back to your room, mind full of your upcoming date. 

The morning arrives and you are up early having explained to Terzo that the earlier you get there the better. It would be less busy, you got the best pick of the produce and all the tasters won’t have sat out for so long. Taking your advice he had agreed to leave the Abbey around nine, and also on your advice you both were skipping breakfast, not wanting to fill yourselves up before you get there. But his morning coffee is non-negotiable… 

After getting ready you let yourself into his rooms and start the coffee machine. You can hear him moving about already so you don’t worry about getting him up, but instead have time to fuss about… well, everything. You smooth your hands over your outfit as you wait letting your nerves get the better of you for a second. It’s not to say you didn’t usually make an effort with your appearance, you did, but your clothes and hair had to be practical when cooking even if just for him. This was the first time you had had the opportunity to dress up and for some reason it had your stomach in knots. 

You wore your hair down today, letting the dark waves cascade down your back where they were usually secured in a bun and your make up was light as you had considered the time of day - just a subtle base and some eyeliner, mascara and lipstick to add a little emphasis to your features. The dress you picked was one you had never worn before. It was black, as was the majority of your wardrobe, but the light cotton fell softly over your figure, the hem ending at your mid-calf. It was buttoned up from your chest to your knees, giving a glimpse of leg and decolletage you hoped would capture his attention without flaunting too much. The puff sleeves and broderie anglaise finish the look and make it, in your opinion, the perfect dress for a date at the farmers market.

Just as you finish the coffee you hear him come to the door. You turn around a cup in each hand to catch him frozen in the doorway. With one hand he is clinging to the door frame and then other is laid dramatically over his heart. He is looking at you as if he has never seen you before. He looks incredible himself, his hair slicked back as you had not seen it for a long time and his face surprisingly clear of his paints, given you were leaving the Abbey. He is wearing an off-white revere collar shirt, habitually unbuttoned half way down his chest over tailored linen trousers in a soft dove grey with black woven loafers. He has a matching linen blazer over his arm, and he looks like he has just stepped out of the pages of a Milanese fashion magazine.

‘Good morning, Terzo,’ you greet as you go to hand him his coffee but he ignores it in favour of pulling you in for a kiss, letting go of the door frame and instead wrapping his arm around your waist and letting his hand glide down your body over the smooth fabric. You hum into his mouth enjoying his attentions but slightly worried about spilling coffee on you both as you hold them over his shoulders. ‘I could get used to this sort of greeting,’ you say when he lets you pull away, still seemingly at a loss for words. 

‘Grazie,’ he whispers, finally taking his coffee and savouring the first sip before continuing, letting his eyes roam all over you. ‘You are, well… beautiful doesn’t even cover it, I think. Sei una visione di bellezza, come non ne ho mai viste.’ He does this every now and then, slipping into his native tongue when he can’t seem to find the words to express himself in English. You don’t understand what he is saying but the sentiment is clear, so you let the melodic words wash over you and let your smile widen in response. 

‘You are looking very handsome today too.’ You cup his cheek with your now free hand and let him nuzzle into your palm. ‘I have been looking forward to this all week.’ 

‘Me too, cara mia.’ He places his hand over yours before taking it in his. ‘Are you ready to go?’

‘I’ve got my coffee, I've got you, I don't think I need anything else. And if we leave now everyone will still be at breakfast so we shouldn’t be bothered.’ With a nod and a smile he leads you from the kitchen through his rooms and out to the corridor, pausing only to lock the door behind you. You realise then that this is probably going to be the first time he has left the Abbey since returning from the last tour and what a big step this must be for him, as well as the two of you. You walk through the corridors quickly, leaving a plausible distance between you in case you were seen by anyone but before you reach the main entrance he leads you down an old corridor that, as far as you knew, only led to an older unused wing of the Abbey. 

‘Where are we going?’ You ask him as you follow him along the twists and turns of the dusty corridor but he just shushes you and continues as though he is looking for something. To your surprise he ignores the few doors you pass coming to a stop at an old painting covered in dust, which depicts what you can only assume is a life-sized satanic knight posing in his armour in the landscape of hell. Without any further explanation he feels around the edge of the frame until you hear a click and the painting swings forward revealing a secret set of stairs leading down to a door where you can see slivers of daylight seeping in where it has warped in its frame. Taking your hand he helps you down the steps before having to give the door a shove once, then twice before it opens and you find yourselves at the side of the main Abbey just outside the tall garden wall.  

‘This is the way we used to go when we didn’t want anyone to see us leaving,’ he says, shooting you a mischievous grin. ‘When we were boys especially and the older sisters wouldn’t give us the time of day we would sneak into town…’ He trails off realising the story he was about to tell you and his expression turns a little sheepish. ‘Well, you know how teenage boys can be.’ You shake your head at him good naturedly but take his offered hand so he can lead you down what is clearly a well trodden path through the public gardens to a side gate that opens on the main road into town.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The first and arguably most important consideration when preparing a dish like this is making everything bitesize. Slice things too small and the flavours will not balance well, slice things too big and you will end up with all sorts of mess, but getting it just right? A slice of cheese, a piece of fruit, a spoonful of chutney, a sliver of meat could all fit on a cracker and be eaten in one perfect bite.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It is a short pleasant walk especially on a morning like this. The Abbey is about half a mile from the town and despite the occasional comment or funny look, the residents seem to have accepted sharing the area with a satanic church a long time ago. The residents of the Abbey brought a lot of business to the local shops and trades people, doing their best to contribute to the community they were fringe members of which served to strengthen the tolerance of their presence. You yourself had good relationships with the local food stores, avoiding spending your budget at the supermarket as much as you could, so you had never experienced anything but a sideways glance from some of the more conservative members of the community. 

After about fifteen minutes you reach the town square which is already bustling with life even at this early hour of the weekend. Rows and rows of stalls fill the usually open space and there are already plenty of shoppers drifting from stall to stall. Having finished your coffees, you take his and put them in the nearest bin before pausing so you can come up with a plan of action.

‘When I come with Mona we try to be strategic,’ you explain as you try and suss out what the closest stalls are selling.

‘Oh, and why is this? To get the best produce? The best deals?’ He asks inquisitively, tilting his head as he thinks. You wish you could say those were the reasons but it was much less professional.

‘Nope. It is so we don’t get too full before we have eaten everything we want.’ He laughs loudly, clearly surprised at your reasoning but you try your best to keep your face straight. ‘It is important you know!’ you insist as his laughter calms.

‘You have been training me up for this moment, no?’ he says, patting his belly and winking at you knowingly.

‘Bigger appetites than yours have been defeated by the farmer’s market tasters, I will have you know,’ you respond, doing your best not to get distracted by his insinuation.

‘Psh, I could eat one of everything and still have room for whatever delicious dish you have planned for tonight.’ He winds his arm around your waist pulling you against his side as you walk together to the first stall. You can’t keep up your serious façade, his confidence and manhandling bringing a flush to your cheeks, at least until you realise what he said.

‘Need I remind you it is Saturday and my day off.’ You prod him in the side in retaliation and he jumps slightly when you catch his ticklish spot. He grabs your finger before you can poke him again, a little tug of war ensuing before he lets you free with a stern look.

‘Well I can cook for you then,’ he says, snapping his fingers as the idea comes to him. You dip your head for a moment, your chest feeling full at his insistence you spend even more of today together. Until the reality of him cooking anything for you sinks in. You had long suspected that he lacked even the most basic cooking skills, which was confirmed the only time you ever let him try to help you.

‘And what exactly are you going to cook for me?’ You ask as you reach the first stall filled with assorted jars of conserves and jams.

‘I will cook…’ He pauses, looking around at the closet stalls. ‘Cheese!’ he exclaims loudly, drawing some looks and a chuckle from the cheesemonger a couple of stalls over. He clears his throat, quieting his voice. ‘Cheese, cara mia, like we talked about the other night. Cheese and crackers and fruit and chutney. Like this!’ He picks up a jar of spiced cranberry chutney from the stall.

‘That will be 55 krona please, sir,’ the lady behind the stall tells him. He hands the jar to you and fishes his wallet out of his pocket, handing her cash and insisting she keep the change. 

‘That’s not exactly cooking is it,’ you scoff, putting the jar in one of the many tote bags you had thought to bring along. ‘But that being said, I would be happy to join you this evening.’ 

‘Maybe not but I can assure you I will put a lot more effort into dessert,’ he replies with a smirk as he pulls you towards the cheesemonger. ‘Now, Signior, I need a selection of your best cheese for mia cuocoina, and a little advice.’ 

He leads the way around the market, insisting on tasting this and that and asking questions of the vendors about flavour pairings and serving suggestions until your tote bags are beginning to weigh you both down. You find a bench at the edge of the square and flop down onto it taking the weight off your aching shoulders. He follows after you, sliding the bags to one side so he can sit right beside you. 

‘Try this, cara mia,’ he holds a small pastry to your lips, one he has already tried if the tell tale crumbs around his lips were anything to go buy. You almost refuse, your tactical plan having flown out the window long ago at his insistence you taste test almost everything. He looks at you beseechingly though and you cave, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed it to you. Before he can pull away though you close your lips around his fingers, getting your own back the only way you can right now. He freezes, his pupils blown wide as he watches you suck the tips of his fingers. 

‘Fancy seeing you here.’ A voice you recognise breaks through your lustful haze. You almost choke between the pastry and Terzo whipping his fingers from your mouth as if they were burning. You swallow your mouthful without even registering if it was nice or not as you turn to see Lilly and Rich stood before you. You jump up quickly, offering them each a hug, then trying to stand between them and Terzo, wracking your brain to explain why you were out in public with Papa's fingers in your mouth. 

‘Hi guys, what a lovely surprise. You should really try the pastries from over there, they are very good…’ You can feel your face burning completely at a loss on how to explain away what they must have seen.

‘Will Papa hand feed them to us as well?’ Rich asks sardonically, looking at you with your eyebrows raised as if waiting for an answer. At least until Lilly elbows him sharply in the ribs. 

‘It’s so nice to see you and to see you too, Papa. Hello!’ She says leaning around you to offer Terzo a wave. He stands dusting crumbs from his face and his shirt and carefully keeping some space between you as he shifts to see them both. 

‘Hello, Sister…’ He glances at you and you realise he has never met them before and some introductions are in order.

‘Lilly, Ter… Papa, this is Lilly and Rich. We work together in the kitchens.’ Lilly smiles at him offering another wave which he returns but Rich still doesn’t look impressed, clearly wanting to confront you both on what he saw.

‘Ah, si. Hello, Sister Lilly and Brother Rich. And I can assure you those pastries are delicious whether fed from my own hands or not.’ He switches his Papa persona on, and it’s a little jarring after all this time. ‘Sorella here, I have tired her out having her carry all these bags of things I wanted. I thought I better not tire her arms any further.’ 

‘Right,’ Rich replies slightly at a loss for words. You don’t think his story has helped the situation at all but though he looks a little awkward and uncomfortable, it doesn’t seem like Terzo really minds the two of you getting caught, so you take a deep breath and relax.

‘All this shopping and eating… I could do with another coffee, I think. Si…’ He nods to himself, already heading towards the coffee stall. ‘Anyone else?’ He asks almost as an afterthought and you all nod. ‘Four coffees then, ok.’ The three of you watch him go but as soon as he is out of earshot, they both turn to you.

‘What the hell was that?’ Rich asks in an angry whisper. ‘I thought you were just doing your job and he was far too stressed about getting fired to try it on? Not that it looked like he had to try that hard…’ He had always been protective of the three of you, but you couldn’t help feeling defensive when he had no idea what had been growing between you.

‘Oh leave her be, they both looked happy while they were doing it. What does it matter?’ You smile at Lilly appreciatively, thankful for her understanding.

‘Guys, please just listen.’ You knew you had to explain something. ‘We, well, look, we just-’ You can’t even find the words to start. It’s not like with Mona where you can tell her everything and she just understands, not that you have time for that anyway. You glance over to the stall and see him standing in line, carefully studying the menu and certainly not looking back over every few seconds. ‘I… I can’t really explain what we are; not at the moment,’ you sigh. ‘But Lilly is right, we are happy, everything is fine.’ 

‘You do look happy, and he looks better too.’ Lilly says reassuringly and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

‘Yeah, no one can accuse you of slacking on feeding him.’ Both you and Lilly turn to glare at him.

‘Don’t be a dick, Rich!’ she admonishes him, treating him to another elbow to the ribs.

‘What?’ He says defensively rubbing his side. ‘He is looking a lot more well-fed than he ever did before.’ It isn’t an apology but it is probably as close as you will get from Rich. 

‘Could you guys just keep this between us, please?’ You feel like you are begging, but the last thing you want is people finding out about the two of you through gossip. You hadn’t really thought about it or discussed it but you were sure that Terzo would like to tell his brothers himself when the time was right.

‘Keep what? There’s nothing to tell anyway, right Rich?’ She threatens him with her elbow one last time but relents when he agrees with a flinch.  

‘Right, nothing to tell.’ The three of you look at him just as he looks away sharply and he gets handed the tray of coffees. You feel a little relief but the silence is awkward as you wait for him to make his way back over. 

‘Caffè for everyone!’ He announces on his return and you each take a cup.

‘Thank you Papa, that was very kind,’ Lilly thanked him genuinely. ‘But we better get going. We have a list. Mona has really taken to bossing us around since you've been gone.’ You know she is joking, but it still sends a pang through you. As happy as you are in your current position, you do miss them. ‘Anyway, it was lovely to see you! Bye!’ She grabs Rich by the elbow and drags him away with only one last glare over his shoulder. 

‘Terzo, I’m sorry,’ You say slumping back onto the bench.  

‘They didn’t know about us?’ He asks cautiously. He sits beside you but leaves enough space to be considered decent and keeps his hands to himself. You can’t decide if you are disappointed or not. 

‘No, they didn’t.’ You shoot him a sideways glance and he is looking down at his coffee, his expression unreadable. 

‘So, you haven’t spoken to anyone about…?’ He trails off, neither of you at a point of being able to define what is going on between you. ‘Even before, you didn’t seek out your friends?’

‘Well I did… Mona, but I trust her. She would never say anything.’ He holds up a hand to halt you and you feel a bubble of panic starting to grow in your chest.

‘That’s not what I meant, cara mia.’ He finally looks at you now and the bubble dissolves. His eyes are warm, full of care. ‘I am glad you spoke to your friend about this, just as I am glad of her discretion. I would hate to think about you being so upset and also alone.’

‘You were dealing with it all alone.’ His hand rests on the bench between you and you place yours over the top. It feels wrong not to be touching at all during such a conversation. 

‘Ah, I am used to it,’ he says, brushing you off. ‘I am used to it.’ He turns his hand under yours loosely lacing your fingers together. ‘And anyway, I am not alone anymore am I?’ It’s a slow smile that grows across his face, like he is only just realising it now. 

‘No you aren’t,’ you confirm, squeezing his hand and returning his smile. If you had your way he would never be alone again. 

‘May I ask,’ he pauses like he isn’t sure he wants to ask what he is about to say. ‘Why you didn’t tell your other friends?’ But this is something you can easily offer him an answer to.

‘Well it’s just… Lilly is young, she is only twenty. It feels a little odd talking to her about relationships when she feels like a little sister, and Rich? Well, he is the biggest gossip in the whole kitchen. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but he just gets a little carried away sometimes.’ You can’t help your fond smile. ‘And he is pretty protective of us, even if he can be a little bit of a dick about it.’

‘I see, I see.’ He seems happy enough accepting your reasons. ‘Are you ok?’ He inches a little closer now, already over keeping a sensible distance. 

‘Yeah, I am.’ You decide even as you are saying it. The confrontation with your friends could have gone better, but it could have gone a lot worse. And it’s better you get caught by your friends then any other random inhabitant of the Abbey. In fact, you should have foreseen this happening, going out together so close to home. You wonder if he feels the same though. ‘Are you?’

‘Si, I think it is time to go home though,’ he says and you nod in agreement. You think you have both had enough excitement for today. ‘I called for a car while I was waiting for the coffee,’ he admits a little sheepishly. 

‘Oh, thank Satan.’ Your relief is palpable, both your full stomach and your sore shoulders thankful. ‘I thought we were going to have to carry all of this back.’ 

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Presentation is the second most important consideration and for that you need a suitable foundation. Depending on the number of people you are catering for you need a vessel large enough to hold enough food. The material is less important, dictated by aesthetic preference, whether you prefer wood, glass, slate or porcelain. Consider whether you need vessels for particular ingredients, additional cutlery to serve. By planning for all eventualities you make sure the meal is a success.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

With a plea from you and an order from Terzo a ghoul assists in carrying the bags back to his rooms, leaving them on the kitchen table before departing to wherever it is ghouls go when off duty. You begin to unpack, starting to sort out the haul to put in the appropriate storage but he comes behind you taking your wrists in his hands and steers you back out of the kitchen. 

‘Mia cuocoina please,’ he murmurs against the back of my head. ‘I need peace for the art I am about to create.’ You try to suppress your laugh but it comes out an inelegant snort.

‘I can help,’ you reply, twisting in his arms to look at him. ‘Just tell me what you want me to do.’ 

‘No,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘It is my turn to make food for you!’ He continues shepherding you backwards towards his office. ‘Go have a nap, visit friends, whatever.’ he drops a kiss on your lips before spinning you back around. 

‘You may come back in two hours,’ he swats at your ass as he opens the door and lets you out into the hallway. 

You pause for a moment wondering where you even wanted to go. Going back to your rooms wasn’t very appealing, there were no distractions there and you knew the time would crawl by. The kitchens were out of the question right now if you didn't want to be subjected to the interrogation you were spared in town, something you were keen to avoid as long as possible. The gardens were an option except you could still feel the ache in your arms from carrying the bags around the market and you know for certain if Primo catches you in the garden there was no chance you would be leaving unencumbered by whatever vegetables he could give you. 

Your wandering takes you past the upper clergy offices, mostly dark and unused of a Saturday afternoon but you spot movement behind one of the doors and you are not surprised when you realise whose it is. There is only one person you know that would willingly work on a Saturday and fortunately that was a person you had been meaning to speak to. Since you and Terzo had joined his brothers for lunch in fact. You had no sweet treats prepared for him today but you were sure he could do with a break. He could always do with a break. 

Approaching the closed door you knock softly and wait for him to answer and the slightly frantic scuffling you can hear lets you know you won’t have to wait long. But a few moments pass before he answers the door. His exhaustion is plain on his face, sadly not much different than any of the other times you have seen him lately. 

‘Sorella,’ he says with a tired smile when he registers it is you at his door. ‘How can I help you today?’

‘I found myself at a loose end and saw you were working!’ You explain as he holds the door open for you and gestures to the seat before his desk. ‘And why are you working on a Saturday?’

‘There is so much to do and so little time,’ he says, flopping back into his chair with a heavy sigh. ‘I was not busy today anyway so I thought why waste time when there is so much to catch up on.’ The clergy’s decision to remove Terzo from his position has caused more problems than you had first thought. You can’t help thinking how odd it is that no new Papa had been appointed after all these months when there was clearly a need but you set that aside for now.

‘Even you need a break Cardinal.’ You struggle to keep the worry from your voice.

‘Well you are here, let's have a break now.’ His smiles grows more genuine as he speaks. ‘I wished to speak with you anyway.’ 

‘Yes me too,’ you agree. It makes it easier now that he has brought it up himself. ‘I have been meaning to come and see you since the lunch but well, you know Papa, he was keeping me busy. Even on my day off he had me going into town with him to the farmers market.’ You are starting to worry your blush is becoming permanent and you hope your smile isn’t as sappy as it feels. If you plan to continue keeping your relationship quiet you really need to get better at schooling your reactions. 

‘Si, I imagine Papa has lots to keep you busy.’ he agrees laughing but his face turns serious. ‘He is.. Well he is treating you well Sorella?’ He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully, his fingers coming up to play with his moustache nervously. ‘Like a gentleman? When things are hard I think sometimes he can forget he is a good man.’ You sense that Copia may be talking from personal experience and having seen that side of Terzo yourself you are keen to reassure him.

‘I think I understand what you mean, Cardinal, he …’ You pause thinking over your wording just as carefully. ‘When I first began working for him he was different, while everything was fresh but he, we, found a compromise. He has apologised for some of his more thoughtless actions.’ Copia raises his eyebrows and you panic momentarily. ‘Oh nothing so bad and really, I had a lot of sympathy for his situation. I wasn’t expecting him to be at his best.’ 

‘It was regrettable what happened.’ He takes off his beretta and runs his hands through his hair. ‘It .. well it was unexpected for all of us, I think but it is good to see him doing better.’ He does look genuinely relieved even though the situation has clearly impacted him. ‘All this food seems to be doing the trick eh?’

‘The food probably has helped, yes,’ you laugh, and the rest you thought, keeping that to yourself. ‘But I think it is really just time, Cardinal.’ He would have improved with or without you over time but you do like to think you have helped him move on a little faster then he may have done otherwise. 

‘Now, can we discuss those notes you brought me to translate?’ His direct questions bring you straight back down from your romantic imaginings.

‘I was waiting for you to bring them up.’ You know you owe him something of an explanation  but you are not above waiting to see what he has worked out for himself.  

‘They, well I suppose I don’t know enough to say really,’ he begins confidently before tailing off. ‘But they didn’t read like professional recipes.’

‘That's because they weren’t but Cardinal, it’s not my place to say more, not that I even really know anymore.’ In this at least you can be honest. You could probably make a good guess as to who wrote out the recipes but you aren’t willing to voice that now. ‘He gave me some recipes and he never said where they came from or why that was all he wanted and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask. There were things said at lunch that might have given me some clues but even so.’ 

‘Si, before. I noticed that too.’ He takes a deep breath before continuing. ‘It has not been long since I was considered an outsider to them and outsiders really know very little by design. If it hadn’t been announced that I was also Nihils son then that would still be the case. But even though I never grew up the way that they did, well Secondo and Terzo anyway, I was here in the Ministry already and I saw what happened.’ 

You say nothing, waiting for him to continue sensing his need to unburden himself. 

‘I was brought up as an orphan you see and while most children in the church are brought up communally, orphan or otherwise, the Emeritus brothers were always separate.’ He switches into lecture mode but you still hang on his every word. There were very few people you mixed with who had been a member of the church for so long. ‘Primo has always been here, his mother was a Sister of great reputation chosen especially to birth an heir but Terzo and Secondo, their mothers must have met Nihil on his travels because they weren’t brought to the church until the were ten, Secondo only a few months before Terzo.’  

‘What happened to their mothers?’ A part of you feels bad even asking but your curiosity wins out. You would not feel comfortable asking Terzo himself this but it feels like the last piece in a puzzle you had been building since you had accepted this position. 

‘They just carried on with their lives I suppose. I know Primo fought with Nihil about it, that their mother’s should have been invited to join them or at least to visit but it was decided. No distractions, they had had ten years of normal life and now they were to prepare for their future as men of the Emeritus line.’ His expression turns wry as he continues. ‘It makes me almost glad that he didn’t acknowledge me until recently. I might have liked having brothers growing up though.’ You pat his arm where it rests on the desk offering what little comfort you can.  

‘Anyway I know Terzo’s mother tried for a while, sending packages of food and presents for him but I don’t know what happened after that. One day they just stopped coming.’ Your heart clenches, for Terzo, for Copia, for all of them. They may be in some of the most powerful positions in the Clergy but it was clear they had all been forced to sacrifice a lot for the privilege. 

‘It sounds like it wasn’t easy for any of you.’ Like any organisation there were machinations going on far above the notice of normal members like yourself, you weren’t naïve enough to think otherwise but you found it jarring learning that somewhere that had felt immediately like home and safety to you had treated these men so poorly.  

‘No I suppose not.’ He rubs his hands over his face, the conversation having turned heavier than either of you expected. After a moment he offers you a tired smile. ‘Now tell me more about this farmers market.’ You while away the rest of the time describing in detail the stalls and the tasters and when you eventually leave you hope you both are feeling a little lighter. 

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Once you have your vessel and your ingredients prepared then all that is left is the arrangement. There are endless ways to arrange the food enticingly. If you want your dish to be eye-catching and mouth watering you must consider the balance of colour and texture. You can create contrast with light and dark meats or cheeses. You may introduce pops of colours with fresh fruits and berries and mix textures with a soft cheese, a juicy fruit and a crisp cracker. Complimentary flavours could be grouped, the arrangement of your board encouraging certain combinations both traditional and daring. Your final result will be a visually appealing and delicious dish to present.

• • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It’s been a long time since you have had to knock before entering his quarters but it feels appropriate now, giving him a chance to finish the final touches to his creation before you enter. You almost reach the point of knocking again, wondering if he hadn’t heard you when he pulls the door open. He was still wearing his shirt and trousers but he had borrowed your apron.

‘This looks good on you,’ you tease, pulling at the strap around his neck, but he only takes your hand and leads you inside.

‘Now cara mia you are in for a treat if I do say so myself.’ When you reach the dining room he stops you, placing his hands over your eyes as he guides you the final distance. ‘No peaking now,’ He says as he positions you at the end of the table. 

‘Ta daaa,’ He uncovers your eyes and as you blink you can’t help but be impressed. The centre of the table is covered in what may be every plate in the kitchen; each one has a different cheese and its suggested accompaniments arranged around it. You had fought valiantly for any cheeses other than Italian but he had refused to budge keen for you to taste all of his favourites. He pours you a glass of wine, a deep red and hands you a glass. 

‘This is Barolo, aged in oak caskets it is the most decadent of Italian wines. The King of wines they call it.’ You take a sip and examine the flavours. It is rich, fruity and floral but with an earthiness that should pair well with your meal this evening. You were by no means a wine expert but your palette was well developed over your career and you can tell an expensive wine when you taste one. 

‘Terzo this is very extravagant,’ you stop when he raises his hand.

‘You deserve the best, cara mia, as does this cheese!.’ He gestures across the table and you survey all the options before you, savouring another sip of the wine. In the middle he has laid out a selection of crackers, water, butter and grain in a variety of different shapes. There was crumbling gorgonzola drizzled with honey to calm the bite of the blue veins and topped with quartered grapes and shelled pistachios. Slices of nutty pecorino sit between folded slices of ham generously filled with halved figs and walnuts. Cubes of provolone mixed with slices of olive oil, cured sopressata and green olives and taleggio and apple slices wrapped in salty prosciutto. Finally a bowl of whipped mascarpone, dark red cherry and balsamic dressing pooling between the peaks and whole cherries and pecans sinking into the soft cheese. 

He pulls out your chair for you, getting you comfortably seated then he goes to take off the apron before joining you at the table waiting as you take in the whole spread. It is strange being on the receiving end of such a gesture. You can’t remember the last time someone had prepared an extravagant meal for you like this, even if he had only sliced and arranged the food, it was clear how much effort he has put in to impress you.

He lets you start helping yourself to the plate closest to you when you struggle to decide where to begin with so many enticing options. The two of you are quiet for a time only pausing to express your pleasure with the flavours to each other. After trying at least two helpings of each cheese you sit back with your wine before your stomach begins protesting after your second round of overindulging for the day.

‘Thank you for doing this Terzo,’ you say as you watch him assemble another mouthful. ‘I’m not sure I remember the last time someone did this for me.’ He pauses before taking a bite, looking at you in surprise.

‘Is that so?’ He looks thoughtful as he finishes off his mouthful, getting every trace from his fingers. ‘You are very welcome, cara mia. In fact I enjoyed doing this more than I thought.’ 

‘Am I out of a job now?’ You joke just to watch his eyes widen in panic.

‘Hold on no no!’ He shakes his head emphatically. ‘I did not mean that at all. I will always prefer your incredible cooking.’ 

‘I suppose I will stick around then,’ you reassure him.

‘Thank Satan as much as this was fun. I could not imagine doing it everyday, multiple times.’ He looks exhausted just thinking about it. ‘You are a superwoman, mia cuocoina.’ 

‘I’m not, I just enjoy it,’ you explain. You always had since you were young and had followed your mother around the kitchen.

 ‘Why do you think you were so drawn to cooking?’ He asks. It wasn’t something you had thought much about before. It had just been a fact of your life. 

‘Well I like food obviously,’ you say with a laugh but you pause as you think of what it is you enjoy most about it. ‘I think it's just such a big part of our lives, we have to eat to survive so why not make that as enjoyable as we can?’ Of course it is your job and has been for the longest time but there is a more personal element to it, especially when it comes to people you care about. ‘And you know if you can cook you can make your friend a delicious soup when they are ill, you can make their favourite pasta dish after they just got dumped or you can bewitch a man by making his stomach fall for you first,’ you finish with a wink.

‘Mmmm I see,’ he says sipping his wine, his eyes going heavy lidded as he regards you. ‘So this was your plan was it?’ His voice goes deep and teasing and you shift in your seat. 

‘No, just a happy accident.’ You lean towards him without even noticing, so easily drawn into his orbit. ‘I think my food was just too good for you to resist.’ He nods in agreement, conceding to your point but this conversation is far from its end.

‘And what about you?’ He holds your gaze, keeping you attentive to his every word. 

‘What about me?’ You ask, tilting your head not quite understanding his question.

‘What made you unable to resist your Papa?’ You swallow thickly. There are so many reasons you wouldn’t even know where to start.

‘You don’t need me to tell you how irresistible you are.’ you say instead. You aren’t against stroking his ego usually but you know he is well aware of his affect on people and you in particular. 

‘I have my own charms. I am in no doubt about that.’ He says confidently and you know it is true. ‘You though? I think it is a little different than any I have seduced before.’

‘Oh?’ You have an inkling where he is going with this. You had your suspicions that there were a lot more feelings involved then either of you were used to in your past relationships but this didn’t feel like the build up to a heartfelt confession. He was looking at you as if he had been leading you to a trap and you had just fallen in. 

‘You like feeding me.’ he states, matter of fact, placing his wine glass down on the table.

‘Yes we have discussed that.’ You are sure the two of you had discussed how you enjoyed taking care of him even as early as your first dinner together.  

‘No we haven’t. Feed me.’ His voice is hard but not cold as he orders you but you hesitate.

‘What?’ You think back trying to clear your confusion and you remember the lunch or more specifically just before when you had been reassuring him in his bedroom. You had known then that he wouldn’t drop that forever but it still didn’t make you any more prepared. 

‘I am not yet satisfied. Feed me.’ You swallow again, unable to control your body's reaction to his strict demands. You want to obey him, to feed him but again you hesitate. 

‘Terzo …’ He gives you a stern look cutting you off before you can continue. ‘Papa?’ It comes out as a question but it seems obvious what he wants. He rewards you with a smirk. 

‘I want some more gorgonzola, si,’ He encourages as you take a water cracker and begin to load it with cheese. ‘Plenty of honey too per favore then be a brava cuocoina and feed it to me. Then I will explain.’ You offer him the cracker and he tuts at you shaking his head.

‘Uh uh,’ he sighs. ‘Do it properly.’ He pushes the plates to the side and pats the table in front of him. You stand uncertainly but he pats the table again until you sit before him and offer him the cracker a second time. He scoots his chair forward forcing you to spread your legs to accommodate him but now he is in the perfect position for you to place the food in his waiting mouth. He chews slowly, moaning low as the flavours combine and harmonise on his tongue. 

‘Mia cuocoina, I think the taleggio now, no?’ You take his suggestion, the rolls of prosciutto and apple are much easier to feed him. He watches you for a moment before continuing. ‘There were clues you see but I did not notice at first. Now though, now your Papa understands.’ You offer him the next bite but his warm hand closes around your wrist holding you in place. 

‘You kiss me differently, did you know this? After we have eaten, you like me tasting of food you made me I think.’ You feel like you can’t breathe as he begins listing all the things he has noticed. ‘And my clothes, you look at me differently too, when things get a little tighter, tighter than they used to be. You like seeing how I have changed with every meal you have fed me I think.’ You can’t deny it because what he says is true. A part of you had hoped he might not have noticed everything but with every word that hope gets smaller and smaller. 

‘And now here. Your heart is racing and yet all I have done is eat a little from your own hands.’ He pauses to take a bite, his teeth sinking into the soft cheese and crisp apple and just grazing the tip of your fingers. ‘You enjoy feeding me, more than you realise I think.’ 

‘Papa I …’ You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look angry or upset but you feel the urge to apologise even as words fail you. He swallows the last bite freeing your wrist.

‘Shhh it is ok mia cuocoina.’ His hands trail down to your ankles tracing miscellaneous shapes into your skin. ‘Cherries now per favore. The balsamic cherries with the mascarpone. His fingers creep up your calves ghosting the shape of you before hooking behind your knees. He pulls you forward until you are sitting at the edge of the table. You lean across him, choosing a butter cracker, the thicker texture better to support the soft cheese. 

‘I am craving something sweeter,’ he explains. You bring it to his lips, the cherry juice starting to drip down your fingers and he catches it with his tongue leaving a sticky trail behind it before closing his lips over the mouthful. Your breath catches in your throat and his eyelids droop seductively as he sucks the last traces of juice and cheese from your fingers. 

‘That didn’t quite hit the spot,’ he says, hands already sliding your skirt up your thighs until he can clearly see your underwear and the wet patch there is little point trying to hide. ‘Ah so I was right. You do enjoy hand feeding your Papa.’ He spreads your legs even further so he can lean close enough that you feel his steady breathing against you. ‘After all that fuss.’ He grazes his teeth over your clit, the material of your underwear protecting you but the threat still makes your thighs shake. When he does bite down it’s only on the hem of your underwear as he pulls them to the side leaving you bare to him for the first time.

He just looks at first holding you in suspense but in a split second his tongue is all over you yet somehow still not hitting any places you wanted him, needed him. Around and around he swirls his tongue over your folds, then the most gentle suction. Little sounds of enjoyment he seems unaware of that vibrate through you as he tastes you thoroughly. But his teasing as you fed him, his sucking and nipping at your fingers had already got you ready for so much more. Giving in you lace your fingers through his hair to guide him to exactly where you want his attention most but he resists all your attempts, making the frustration inside you build and build. You try another tactic grinding your hips against his face but he pulls away pressing your hips down onto the table and stopping any further movement and forcing a whine from deep in your chest.

‘Cuocoina, please. I am just trying to properly enjoy my meal.’ He pauses to lick a long stripe, tongue flat and broad to give you as much friction as possible. You can’t breathe, not for a moment, the sudden rush of pleasure the only thing your mind can comprehend but almost as soon as it starts it ends the only thing you can feel are the puffs of his warm breath.

‘But perhaps you would prefer to feed me this too?’ He positions himself that he is a hair's breadth away from you before his vice-like grip on your hips loosens. ‘Feed me’ he growls and you have to obey.

You grind your hips against him over and over, his tongue finding your entrance making your thighs shake as you fight to get him even deeper. Your foot loses purchase where it had settled on the arm of his chair and you scream as your clit catches the tip of his nose. One of his hands finds its way to your thigh helping to steady you but the other creeps up your body underneath your dress. He cups your breast over bra, his maddening fingers finding your already hard nipple through the light material pinching and twisting until you can't decide if you want to arch into his teasing hand or push back against his face. 

‘Papa! Terzooo,’ you moan his name in frustration, struggling as your pleasure builds to take what you need from him but he finally takes pity on you, hooking both your legs over his shoulders and lifting your hips clean off the table.

‘Fuck mia cuocoina,’ he growls against your core. He sucks your clit long and hard until you scream your toes curling against his back. ‘Sei la cosa migliore che abbia mai assaggiato, cazzo.’ You barely register his switch to Italian, too busy chanting his name in your pleasure fuelled delirium.

You are so close to the edge when his lips close over you sucking and sucking while his tongue swipes over your clit over and over again. You can feel it building, a charge shooting through your nerves from the soles of your feet to the palms of your hand and you continue babbling his name, repeating until it is almost meaningless. He pinches your nipple, hard, and you arch up from the table with a gasp just as he slides a finger inside you curling it perfectly to press against your g spot. 

Every bit of air is forced from your lungs as your orgasm overtakes you. Your ears begin to ring as the force of it pulses through your body and what feels like every muscle contracting and releasing as you gasp for air. Your hands are still gripping at his hair keeping him in place not that it is needed as he laps at you greedily, catching every last drop of your orgasm. 

‘Making sure you are well fed?’ You giggle deliriously, still feeling somewhat detached from reality. You release your death grip on his hair and he sets your hips back down on the table helping you ease the vice-like grip of your thighs around him. His face is wet with your slick but it only emphasises his flushed cheeks. He grins at you in satisfaction, his eyes sparkling as he takes in the state he has made of you.

He pulls you back upright by your hands after straightening your underwear and your dress but this time no one could mistake the treatment you had just received. Your balance has not yet returned and so helps you into his lap where you can lean against his warm body. As you get settled you can feel his hardness trapped beneath you but as you reach for him cupping him through his trousers, he catches your wrist gently and instead wraps your arms around his neck. He distracts you by stealing kisses and you discover you almost enjoy the taste of you on his lips as much as you enjoy the taste of the food you make him.   

He slows your frantic kisses down, only offering you slow pecks to help you actually catch your breath. He rubs your back soothingly over your dress and encourages you to rest against him but you still end up clinging to his shoulders to help keep you upright as the haze of your pleasure recedes leaving you exhausted. He tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand settling at the back of your neck.

‘Mmm, now I am satisfied,’ he whispers against your lips before distracting you again with his captivating kisses.